Gods and Demons: ad terminos terrae
by Keleri
Summary: They knew that Gaiien could be dangerous, but they didn't expect anything like this. Three trainers set out on their badge quest in a wild land cloaked by the shadows of old legends. Ancient powers awaken, and demon pokémon, giants, and hybrids converge for a showdown they couldn't imagine. (Fan Region, illustrated Fakemon, OCs, Completed)
1. Prologue: Prisons

Welcome to the Gaiien region! This is the rebooted (and finished!) version of my old fanfic Gods and Demons. The broad plot beats are the same, but the first 15 chapters or so are (IMO) greatly improved. A world of dreams and adventures awaits! Let's go!

Check out my deviantart or tumblr at "gaiienpokedex" for a world map, fakemon illustrations, and extras.

* * *

Prologue

 _Prisons / Vigils / Preludes and Nocturnes / A Warning / A Fall, Down Into the Dark_

 _Ten years ago_

The crowd moved as one, their finery shifting and catching the light as they followed the action across the arena, hit and counter-hit. Ferocious pulses of electricity, of darkness, of poison and acid stabbed and arced through the air, crackling off the powerful shield that protected the audience. A succession of pokémon stamped and cracked the arena floor, trading blows, feet and claws and paws leaving broad gouges in the substrate or floating above it.

The trainers would have been on that floor, once; the old clan adepts had fought alongside their pokémon—fought _as_ their pokémon—on storm-swept battlefields for the glory of their queens and princes, or against monsters, or evil gods.

Nocturna raised her arm and pointed at the mega-evolved electivire, her cape and robes billowing in timed gusts from carefully placed wind machines. A mega stone glittered at her throat, inset in a necklace of silver scales.

"Venoquake, Amarna," she pronounced in rolling tones that echoed over the sound system.

The mega-evolved drapion, all legs and spikes and snapping pincers, pointed its double tail skyward and began raining down globs of purple poison.

"What good is an attack that doesn't hit?" came the reply from her opponent, drawling in his Kalosian accent. "Show them, Octavia. Wild charge!"

The mega electivire skittered, spiderlike, its body supported by a host of black cables multiplied in the battle evolution. It dodged between clots of poison, closing in on the drapion.

Electricity cracked between them as the lightning around the electivire grew in intensity, and it darted in close, fists clenched as if grasping the thunderbolt like a god—

The drapion slammed the arena floor, and the wave of power sheared through the arena substrate, passing under the electivire's darting cables—and then upward, exploding in a gout of poison- and ground-type energy. The electivire flew into the air. It hit the ground hard, cables splaying uselessly as it rolled to a stop and turned to energy, fainting, the mega evolution falling away.

"Hard to dodge the 'quake, isn't it?" Nocturna said, and she smiled, the glitter of a dozen lights and cameras on her, the roar of the crowd in her ears, and her opponent a distant figure who'd just lost his strongest pokémon.

* * *

Nocturna shut the door on her last few guests, pulling off the mask of her gym leader's costume and becoming Genevieve Park again.

She breathed out, a long exhalation, and stepped into a stone tunnel dug centuries ago when the gym had been a castle.

The match had been a success, an S-tier exhibition against a professional trainer from Kalos. She'd won—she'd been expected to, a gym leader on her home turf with her best pokémon—but more importantly, the match had been well-attended and appreciated, the audience thrilled at the ripples of power and the skill of the trainers.

Orthrus raised their heads as she came to her apartments.

She stripped off her sweaty robes, the black silks rippling with birdwing iridescence. Removing her mega stone necklace produced its usual moment of wooziness and she sat down in her armchair carefully.

Orthrus stumped over. "Good fight?" they chorused.

Gen petted the zweilous's heads as she waited for the dizzy spell to pass. "Perfect, it will be on the internet in a few hours, I'm sure. The league officials were pleased."

There had been a crackdown recently on nepotistic gym appointments, so greater scrutiny was paid to every new gym leader—but in Gen's case this was more a formality. No one wanted the Sunset Mountain gym, or not for long.

Gen had used her mixed-type team for this fight, a succession of bruisers she'd brought together as a professional trainer back in Johto. Even then she'd gotten along best with dark-types, their melancholies and sharp humor reflecting her own. When the conditional acceptance for her gym leadership had come in, she'd hastily assembled a dark-type roster, and several of those pokémon had left, amicably traded, as she worked on a team she could depend on.

She didn't need a constantly rotating roster to keep everyone below level thirty, as the tier one gym leader might; Sunset Mountain was the tier seven gym, and getting everyone at par had been the challenge. Even if they pushed the level limit a bit, the long winters tended to be almost devoid of battles, so their strength would decline naturally after the rush of the summer season.

She could even shut down the gym if she wanted to, the league administrators had said. Porphyry City's steady rains might be preferable to the meters of snow and brutal wind that would turn the old mountain castle icy and leave her alone in its echoing chambers as the staff departed.

The previous gym leaders always had. But Gen thought of the old clan-leaders who had remained through storm and siege. She had a duty.

Her pokédex beeped, the concierge reporting that all the guests had retired to their guest rooms in the gym, or had left to the pokémon center or other accommodation. Gen sent her a quick thank-you and hopped into the shower.

Well past midnight, Gen disabled the security system on her floor, and she left through a maintenance door into a stairwell. It ended in a cul-de-sac and more doors, and one door she unlocked, following a tunnel that sloped downward to a final door set in a construction partition covered in warning signs.

She tossed a dusk ball to the ground, releasing a shiny caligryph in flash of purple light.

The bipedal griffin straightened, looked at her sternly. "Don't do this, Gen," he said.

"I know, Albus. But I can't not."

Beyond the door was a vertical tunnel, and on the caligryph's back she floated down, down, down.

A part of her mind wondered, as it always did, at her calmness: the equanimity of the sacrifice, drugged, gliding down into the dark.

At the bottom was a cave, and in the cave was something enormous: it was midnight blue streaked with silver, the fur ticked to look frosty in the light, and it slithered out to meet her. It was as big as a bus and longer, its many-legged coils falling away into the dark.

It hit the barrier and hissed.

From her pockets she produced a plate and a vial, and she spilled the vial on the plate, and with an iron rod she pushed the plate across an invisible line.

The creature licked at the blood, dragging the plate across the stone. Its eyes were flat black, mirrors at the right angle. It rubbed up against the wall, groaning.

 _Free me._

They had no idea why or how it was imprisoned in the cave, no idea what it was except for the ice- and dark-type auras suggested by pokédex analysis. Things could pass the shield, but not it, not pokémon.

They had no idea how the barrier worked or when it might fail.

No one kept the Sunset Mountain gym for long. The people of the second crossing had built it centuries ago as a warlord's stronghold, its narrow paths and sheer drops proof against siege, but their enemy had been inside the walls, all along. They'd delved too greedily and too deep, as the poet said.

Gen's time in the tournament cycle had wound down and she'd applied for gym appointments for years without success. The system was bogged down with certifying alternate gyms while the primary positions were often held by the old clans defending an ancient privilege.

She came to Gaiien, a wild-west league just barely incorporated, its third-crossing cities still growing. People leave Sunset Mountain after six months or less, the league officials told her; the workers say it's haunted and the local people avoid it and the pokémon too.

The mountain, the mountain, the mountain. She'd asked the native people, the people of the second crossing, with their eyes that shone in the firelight and pokémon that never saw a pokéball. They told her stories about queens and princes, gods that left and gods that stayed, and of demons that stole vitality and granted terrible powers.

 _Free me._

Dark-types were immune to psychic attack; a newborn could shut out a mind-probe from a master. Sometimes, though, they could learn how to send them.

The thing in the cave, its serpentine coils stretching far away into tunnels, sent her blistering commands that she could not follow. She had no idea how to lower the barrier, and neither did it, which was what had saved her.

Deep under ice, under earth, under stone, it spoke to her, and she gave it blood and sugar and scanned it with her pokédex and deleted the scans before she went back up, before it could sync.

It spoke to her, dark-type to dark-type specialist. Had the other gym leaders heard it? They'd had other type affinities, some of them. They'd had the sense to run, perhaps. But a gym leadership was more than a cushy summer position, more than teaching, more than battling. Type specialists had stood as bulwarks against strange and terrible things, once. They still could.

She had a duty.

 _Free me._

Eventually it tired and shuffled away into the dark, sleeping through its long imprisonment. Gen wondered if her own was just beginning.

* * *

4/8/2017 - Someday I will stop tweaking this, but today is not that day.  
9/18/2016 - Couple of small tweaks here.


	2. Runaways

9/18/2016 - Couple things changed here based on reader feedback/honest contemplation. I'm concerned that this chapter is still too much of a downer, so let me know your impression by review or PM.   


* * *

Chapter 1

 _Cruelty / Runaways / High School Does End / Regrettable Footwear Decisions / Treacherous Hopes  
_

 _June 11th-13th 128 CR_

Moriko's bike picked up speed as she hit the incline, the road switchbacking down toward the beaches and the boardwalks. The wind took away some of the mugginess; it was a hot, humid day, and it would only get worse.

In the harbour the big ships from Kanto and Hoenn were coming in with the tide, ready to offload finished goods like packaged food, clothes, and electronics, before being loaded back up with raw materials from Gaiien: barrels of oil, pallets of timber, ores and minerals. The water glittered in the sun, though there were clouds massing right where the sea became sky.

Moriko woke her pokédex, its interface glowing above the device strapped to her wrist. "Weather forecast, Port Littoral," she said. Thunderstorms, it said, the symbol flashing a little lightning bolt. She blew out her breath and, noting the time, pedaled faster.

The boardwalk activity was picking up as the sun grew less intense: there were beach loungers, runners and cyclists, paddleboarders in the bay, surfers at the shorebreak, trainers socializing and battling their water pokémon at the protected beach. A mystic in frayed red robes and layered prayer beads under the sprawling beach willows examined pokémon and made proclamations about their potential and need for further training while their trainers left donations of food or old clothing.

Moriko hurried to the ice cream hut, riding in balanced on one pedal and locking up quickly. She pulled on the uniform polo over her sport top and set the blue-and-yellow hat on her green hair, adjusting it briefly before joining the others behind the counter.

It was mechanical work: what order, what cone, what size, what ice cream? There were heavier Unovan-style flavors and the lighter, icier Kantoan style, and a shiny new machine dispensed soft serve. Kids often wanted the premade bars in the shape of cartoon animals or pokémon that melted grotesquely, the colors running and gumball eyes dropping out. It was busy, not too much time to socialize, which she preferred. A blur of people went by, their bright beachwear unfocused in her memory.

Eventually the crowd thinned, the sun sinking, and she and the other servers moved to tidy up, washing scoops and emptying containers. The manager, Chiyo, did inventory and sent them to bring up flavors from the deep freeze to soften for tomorrow in the regular freezer.

The beach emptied as the sky darkened and then clouded, and they closed early at the first few flashes of lightning. The thunder muttered in its wake and wind stirred the sand; the surf was heavier and lights glittered out in the waves, probably jolteel and lanturn up from the reefs.

Moriko went to unlock her bike and Tarahn was there, fawning for attention from the other servers. The raigar's bells tinkled gently as he rolled onto his back, inviting tummy rubs, and he rubbed his cheeks against their hands.

"Oh no, a fierce pokémon appears," Moriko said dryly.

"Tarahn is so cute! How often do you train with him?" one of the other girls asked.

"Supposed to be every day but you know how it is with school," Moriko said, "he gets bored and just chases pidove in the city all day."

Tarahn had a bright pink, rhinestoned collar on to make him look less wild, but he'd gotten in trouble for battling without a trainer before.

Thunder rumbled in the east and they all hurried to get on their bikes. Moriko sped off toward the slope; the incline was a workout without getting caught in the rain, and Tarahn trotted beside her, bells jangling and his yellow-and-purple motley fur glowing under streetlights.

"Sorry about the boredom," Moriko grunted. The bike was in a low gear, the pedals whirling but the bike inching along. "I should…"

"It's fine, it's fine," Tarahn said. "A few more sleeps."

"Excited?"

"Can't wait to see the prairie again, and the little streams, and the trees—and even further. There's another sea, I heard."

They reached the house as the rain came, fat warm drops bursting on the pavement and splashing Moriko's legs with road dust. Tarahn leaped onto the overhang and then the roof, little tracers of electricity glowing on him as he took power from the storm. Moriko watched from the veranda for a while as the lazy lightning bolts crackled from cloud to cloud and the rain haloed all the lights in the street.

* * *

"Are your parents okay with it?"

"They've come around." Russell chuckled through the computer speakers. "It was 'absolutely not' and then 'no, consider your education' and then 'I don't think it's a good idea' and then the dreaded 'it's your choice'. But now they're telling me horror stories about kids who have gotten hurt, and buying me equipment, and telling me about how half the stuff that the trainers do in movies is extremely illegal…"

"Oh yeah, like in _Kanto Quest_ , they stow away on the freight train and it's wistful and adventuresome rather than an accident waiting to happen."

"Honestly I'm not even sure if I would get on a train anymore, lairon and magneton are always just straight up eating the steel rails and stuff."

"It won't interfere with going to university though?" Moriko asked, resuming their earlier topic.

"I think we can do six badges this summer with time to come back and get everything squared up at the end of August. Four for sure, six probably. The last two of the eight are up north and you want to do those at the beginning of the season anyway in late June, early July, so the window will be well past. I convinced the 'rents that it's all good practice, having a plant-type pokémon is a big deal for forestry engineering."

"Nice, there you go."

"What about you? Don't want to think about it?"

Moriko laughed, twirling her mouse cursor nervously. "I'll come back to the ice cream shop and we'll see after that, I don't know… what could I do with Rufus… or Tarahn, I guess work at a power plant or something."

"You never know, you might meet a wild pokémon looking to break into public television. We'll work out this summer, find our specialties."

"Nice. It'll be fun. It'll be hard, but fun, I hope."

"Are you going to grad?"

They were on voice so Russell didn't see the sneer, but he sure heard it. "So I can watch people who hate each other cry about how they'll miss each other and swear to be friends forever? Nah, I can see way more convincing performances on TV."

Russell laughed. "You should though, I think you'll be surprised. And I think people will be curious to see you dressed up."

Moriko restrained herself from spitting bile at that. "Can't afford the salon, I'd rather spend that yen on more pokéballs or food."

"Oh, well, if it's money, my mom might—"

"I really couldn't."

"Think about it!"

"Sure. Listen, I better make my lunch. See you tomorrow, okay?"

"No problem, see you."

Moriko went downstairs, but to her dismay her aunt and cousin were already in the kitchen.

"Oh hi, Mori," Angela said, syrupy. "I'm going out with Dave and them, do you want to come? You can't wear _that_ though," she added.

It was Moriko's normal outfit; she folded her arms over her shirt and moved toward the fridge.

"See? She's grumpy, oh well. See you later, Mori! Bye Mom!"

"Have a good time, Ange. Moriko, don't make me tell you to do the dishes," Aunt Rachel said.

"I just got home!"

"You've been on the computer for a while, you need to pull your weight around here."

Moriko's eyes flicked over to the piled-up garbage and recycling, Angela's undone chore, and she went over to the sink to start running water. Her aunt hovered around the kitchen and then swooped in to criticize: don't use the brush like this, that plate is still dirty, don't bump the bowls against the sink, rack the dishes like this, rack the utensils like this—

"It sounds like you should probably do this yourself," Moriko said tightly, leaving the remaining dishes in the soapy water as she stripped off the rubber gloves.

"Finish that chore, and you can do Angela's as well since she's out," Rachel said primly, withdrawing to her office. "Or no money this week."

A hot prickle of anger ran up her spine at that but she needed her allowance, needed it to get out of this stifling house for a few precious months. She finished the dishes and hauled out the waste to the curb for pickup. She stood outside for a while, hearing the patter of the rain on her rain coat and on the bushes in the garden.

Tarahn appeared, soaking wet, and rubbed up against her legs, and she ran her hands through his wet fur. The raigar went in his pokéball for the night and she headed back inside.

Moriko started to pack her lunch and Rachel reappeared, pissed off about something and showing it by slamming the door to her office. She started tidying the still-wet dishes, throwing them into the cupboards with maximum clatter. Moriko hurried to finish and leave the room, but her aunt swooped over, snatching a bag of chips out of Moriko's hands.

"None of those, you're getting fat," her aunt said, and actually pinched her on the arm. "Look at you! In my house, gorging on my food, spending my money—"

Moriko fled into her room, the tirade following her up the stairs, gaining momentum; doors slammed and angry steps sounded on the stairs. Moriko put a chair under the door handle, but Rachel went by this time.

"What the fuck," she said, muffled by a pillow. "What the fuck."

Tarahn reappeared from his ball, totally dry, and she sat on the floor and hugged him, shaking. He patted her awkwardly with one paw.

"Five more sleeps," he said. He purred for a little while. "I could break something, scratch something."

"That would be satisfying," Moriko said, wiping her eyes.

She thought about taking scissors to the hated plastic-covered guest couches, but that would be too obvious, too escalating. A prank, like letting a street pokémon run around the house with muddy paws; she could give them an apple or a lemonade for it.

After a while Moriko sighed and dabbed at her face with a tissue. She took stock of her belongings: her pokémon training stuff was hidden at Russell's house after a previous blowup, but there were a few more things she should probably hide.

* * *

Moriko thought about skipping class. Their exams were over; there were a few wrap-up lectures, last-minute chances to chat with their teachers or counselors, more on the basis that someone at the school district thought they should all still be at school than for any real need for further instruction. They all had senioritis in its most vigorous form, and the school's struggling air conditioning didn't help.

Their teachers had given up lecturing by about 10 AM and they spent their classes sitting around and chatting. In Calculus, Ms. Kurogawa connected her laptop to the classroom projector and started playing a livestream of a minor summer tournament in Orre.

History was taught by Prof. Hawthorn II, a retired professor, and he gave a presentation on ancient pokémon, repeating the information they'd had drilled into their heads since kindergarten: obey pokémon rangers and police; stay with pokémon with shield techniques; keep your pokédex or phone charged.

Slides of historic photos flicked past: the ancient ho-oh torching old Saffron Town; hyper beams crisscrossing in a distant nighttime exposure as an ancient gyarados levelled Sevii 0 Island; an aerial photograph of the poison swirling in Vermillion Bay after an ancient tentacruel attack.

"An ancient pokémon destroyed the second crossing's technology and sent half of the survivors fleeing back to Terra. Only with the help of their descendants were those who made the third crossing able—" Hawthorn paused, turning toward the message his computer had projected at him and squinting at it briefly.

"Moriko," he said sharply, making her jump a little in her seat. "School counselor." He checked the clock on the computer screen. "Take your things."

A couple of people _ooh_ ed half-heartedly and were immediately quelled by piercing looks from the professor.

Moriko was confused but made her way to the front office; the A/C seemed to be less labored here, which was a relief and made up for the annoyance of being singled out in class.

She was directed to the back through a series of faintly antiseptic-smelling hallways. She passed offices and desks that she knew objectively held only boring paperwork, but she couldn't help feeling an instinctive dread, Angela's fourth-grader voice coming through the years to wheedle _you're in troooooouble_.

Mrs. Ellis greeted her perfunctorily; she was a tall, pale woman with a collection of bracelets that jangled when she typed. Moriko vaguely remembered her from a career studies class and various club weeks.

"Your aunt gave me a call and asked me to talk to you," she said, slumping in a desk chair. "She said that you hadn't applied to any schools for next year and she wanted you to talk to someone."

Moriko shifted uncomfortably. "I applied to the Saffron Institute of Technology, but I didn't have the marks." _Because Russell was going there. Stupid._

"Anywhere else?"

"No."

"What program?"

Moriko shrugged.

The counselor looked at her severely. "What's the plan for this summer?"

"I'm going to do a few gyms in the Gaiien League."

"While exciting and romantic, being a professional pokémon trainer is not a realistic career option, especially for someone who hasn't had formal training since age ten or so."

"I know, I just want to do that this summer, Russ is coming along—"

Mrs. Ellis tapped something on her tablet, her fingers flicking to call up a file. She looked impressed at what she was seeing. " _He_ gets the luxury of a lackadaisical summer. What are you going to do in the fall?"

"I—I'll work, I work at the ice cream place on the boardwalk. Save some money."

"Are you going to do that forever? Look, I assume you have a good relationship with your pokémon? What species are they?"

"Burnox, and, uh, raigar."

She tapped the names into a search engine and looked at the results for a moment. "You kids are all wild for pokémon battling, but other jobs use pokémon, vital careers with pokémon in necessary roles, fulfilling and interesting ones. What's your email? I'm going to send you a list."

Moriko's pokédex beeped and displayed the message, which contained a map with pins floating over the Gaiien region.

"Weather stations on Sere Island, harbour traffic in Porphyry City, steelworks in Port Brac, forestry and mining in the Neck. Assuming you get that far this summer," she said, sniffing. "See these places, the people, the pokémon working there. Maybe you'll catch a water-type with more ambition than you."

Moriko studied the map. "So let's say steelworking is cool or whatever, what do you do? Is there a school for pokémon?"

"All the work I put into career week..." Mrs. Ellis muttered, pulling out a desk drawer and flipping through pamphlets, some of which she tossed at Moriko. "You're too late to apply for most of these but look at them for _next_ year."

Moriko gathered up the pamphlets while the counselor kept talking.

"Look," Mrs. Ellis said finally, "I remember what it was like, being a teenager, being lovestruck—"

"That's _not_ —"

"Oh of course it's not!" she threw up her hands in a cascade of bangles. "Whatever, whatever the situation is, you need some independence, and you can get that by looking realistically at your educational and financial situation, and making decisions about your, _your_ future. You need to talk to your family and get things sorted out, your aunt was _very_ expressive on the phone."

"My aunt—" Moriko shut her mouth, the words tangling up; there was no way to describe it, everything sounded too dramatic, too much, the truth surely not deserving those maudlin terms. "They're not… that helpful."

Mrs. Ellis watched her, her expression probing, and finally handed her another pamphlet. "It's possible for young adults to get outside support, depending on what kind of educational path they're taking," she said pointedly. "Do your pokémon journey thing and make some decisions."

"Is that everything?" Moriko said, suddenly exhausted by her questioning.

"I want to help you," Mrs. Ellis said, "and the best way to help yourself is to make a realistic plan. Just keep that in mind."

Moriko nodded and got up to leave.

"Email me if you have questions," the counselor called after her. "Talk to your pokémon professor!"

The bell was a few minutes away from ringing, so she waited outside the south exit for Russ. He came out chatting with Huynh and Sosuke, and parted with them as they headed home.

"I miss anything?"

"Some stuff from Hawthorn's life," Russell said. "He was born during the crossing war and told us about some of his memories, like the first fossil pokémon being created and the first mewtwo. He managed to participate in the Indigo League when it was basically a war between the triads and the old clan-masters. What did the counselor have to say?"

Moriko frowned. "My aunt called her, she knows about me going on a journey this summer."

Russell hissed in sympathy. "It worked while it lasted I guess." He looked at her sidelong. "Mor, maybe… don't go home. Maybe don't."

She shrugged. "Where am I gonna go?"

"My house, anytime, most of your stuff is there already. Or Prof. Willow's lab, she would let you stay no problem, there are beds for traveling trainers. The pokémon center."

"I don't wanna put you out. The pokémon center might be fine, might as well get used to that," Moriko said, considering. "She called the counselor, she wants to blow up on me again. She'll just follow me to the pokémon center or something if I don't go take it."

Russell fiddled with his bike silently, unlocking it. Finally he put his hand out and shook her a little by the shoulder. "You have Tarahn with you?"

"He's somewhere."

"Mor…"

"What, what are they going to do?"

Russell shrugged. "What _are_ they going to do?"

They rode their bikes together in silence for a while and paused at the intersection where their paths diverged.

"I'll come with," Russ said.

Moriko shook her head. "I'll get a last couple of things and come over, alright?"

Russ looked at her, lips thin where he was biting them, and nodded.

There was an oppressive air over her aunt and uncle's house when she came up. Moriko braced herself for the fight, the last effort to stop her from leaving.

Her aunt and uncle were in the kitchen when she walked in; Kaz, ever cowardly, slunk away to sit in front of his computer with headphones on.

Rachel swooped in. "Moriko. You need a plan. No more jokes."

Moriko pressed her fingers against her eyelids; she felt herself shrinking, suddenly cowed by the attention and questioning. "Can we not—can we just—"

"What do you think you're going to do? Do you think this trainer thing is going to work out? Run the numbers!"

"I just—I want—I'm old enough for the league, so I'll do that this summer—"

"You think you can make it in this league? It's for trainers who have been working since they were ten, trainers with eight badges from a different region already. Don't waste the time."

"I've been training—"

"Two pokémon and the first gym is a ground-type gym, good luck. Get your shit together, Moriko." Her aunt sighed. "I'm sorry you're doing this. Look, just keep working for the summer, and practice with your pokémon to get into a technical school. There are plenty of jobs that need a fire- or electric-type—"

"Good, then traveling through the league will be good practice!"

"It's a totally different skill set—"

"Stop—this is—I have a plan! I have a budget! This is what I'm doing this summer! I'm taking an absence from the ice cream place—"

"You're already replaced. Idiot. I had to beg Chiyo to give you that job."

Moriko sputtered. "No—you—I got that job! You didn't even know—"

"You owe us!"

Moriko jumped as Rachel smashed a dinner plate, the ceramic shards tinkling across the countertop and falling to the floor.

"Everything we've done, everything we've put aside for you—"

A bubble of rage broke in Moriko's throat. "Why am I _here_ then?" she yelled. "I didn't ask for this, for you to hold this over me every time I want to do the slightest thing! You want me to leave, you're always telling me to, and when I finally—"

"Ungrateful, pigheaded, wasteful, lazy—"

"Shut up! Shut up!"

"You walk out, you go—"

"You're fucking right I am!" Moriko went up the stairs, calculating what she would grab. _Enough of this._

Rachel's words floated up the stairs behind her. "Don't come back here! Go out into the woods and starve in a hole in the ground! You idiot, you dumb half brat—"

"Racist now too! Classy! Classy as fuck!" Moriko yelled back.

"If only Kaz's brother had married a human being—"

The rage filling her to her fingertips, Moriko seized and hurled a chair down the stairwell to the empty landing. "Don't talk about them! Don't you fucking—"

"An animal living in my house, sneaking around with boys, useless—"

Moriko threw the last few clothes and keepsakes into her school bag, breathing hard, trying to see clearly, trying be sure that she could live without whatever was left, which would certainly be destroyed as soon as she left the house for the last time.

Seized by inspiration, she turned her desk onto its side and wedged it under the door handle, and exited her room through the window, stepping out onto the old tree and half-climbing, half-sliding to the ground.

Rachel saw her as she crossed the lawn back to her bike and came out, still hurling abuse, slurs, old-fashioned racist epithets that were more comical than stinging.

"You stupid—your parents—you're going to stay in this house and stop wasting time and money—" Rachel seized her by the arm and Moriko fought to break her surprisingly strong grip.

"Don't touch me!"

Rachel hit her in the head with the edge of her hand and Moriko sat down in the driveway heavily.

"What—what the fuck—"

"Look what you made me do, you streak of filth, you half—" Rachel screamed, jumping back as lightning cracked between them.

Tarahn was running up; he put his body between them, guarding Moriko. He snarled at her aunt, electricity crackling along his purple and yellow fur.

He wasn't a tournament pokémon whose special attacks could hurt humans, but it was the look of the thing, Moriko thought dazedly.

"I'm calling the police, I'm calling the rangers—a pokémon attacking—out-of-control—"

Tarahn growled as Moriko rose, hauled up the bike, arranged her bags. She looked past Rachel's face, spit-flecked and mottled with rage, at her uncle standing uselessly in the doorway, holding a phone in one hand.

She turned away and rode off, Tarahn loping beside her.

* * *

Russell let her in and didn't say anything.

Sylvia came to the door, claws clicking on the tiles, and licked Moriko's hand. She scratched the timbark behind the ears, digging her fingers deep into her mossy fur.

She added her bag to the pile in the guest room: secondhand hiking bag, tent, tarp, cooking supplies, freeze-dried trainer food, pokéballs, remedies.

"How bad was it?" Russell asked.

"It was really bad. Surprisingly bad," she said, bemused, floating. Her cheek hurt; her aunt had caught her along the cheekbone and eye orbit.

"Do you… do you want to tell anyone?"

 _Half brat_ , Moriko thought. _Hafu kid runs away from home, distresses kind modern family who was fostering her_.

"No," she said. "I'm eighteen. Let's let it be over."

Russ watched her, looked away. "Okay," he said. "Okay."

* * *

Moriko waited for the other shoe to drop and almost didn't answer when an unfamiliar number called her phone. It was from the bank.

"Ms. Sato?"

"Speaking?"

"We've detected some unusual activity on your account, did you intend to move the entire balance of your account this morning?"

Moriko went cold, her stomach dropping and turning hard and sick.

"Ms.—?"

"No. No, that wasn't me."

"I'm sorry to hear that, in the meantime we've aborted that transfer and put a hold on your account."

"So I didn't—"

"Nothing was lost."

She could breathe again. "Thank you so much…"

"You won't be able to make any transactions until you come to the bank in person, okay? I recommend going as soon as possible today."

At the bank the teller let her know that the transaction had been initiated from a familiar device and location, but the amount had been unusual and triggered their watchdog system.

From her desktop at her aunt and uncle's house? It had a password, though, and she'd backed up all her files onto a drive she'd left at Russell's house.

She thought of her uncle pecking away on his own computer.

"Sometimes malicious programs can capture computer activity and then provide passwords and such to a third party," the bank's IT girl told her.

With her help Moriko changed all her passwords and she showed her how to change the ones on her pokédex and its browser as well. The bank helped her set up a totally new account.

"The old one had a legacy connection to what looks like your aunt and uncle's joint account. They're your guardians?"

"Yes, but…" Moriko fought to keep the urgency out of her voice. "Now that I'm eighteen, I think that I should have a separate, adult account. I want to be financially independent."

"Of course. Would you like to give them access so they can deposit money when you need it?"

"No. That won't be necessary. Due to the problems I had today I want to be the only one who knows the number."

"That's a good idea, sometimes older people aren't as good with technology and they're less careful about picking up viruses and things. One thing we can do is require a password by phone if someone's calling in to make changes remotely."

"Yes," Moriko said, keeping her face still. "Definitely."

* * *

She rode back to Russ's house in a daze; eventually she had to stop and walk her bike or she was going to hit somebody. She made it back without incident, somehow.

Russ did a double-take when she came in. "Whoa. Hey. Hey. What happened?"

"They used my computer to transfer all of my money," she said.

He looked at her incredulously. "Who? All—have you been to the bank?"

"Yeah. Yeah. It's fine now. I should have—I should have…taken it? Destroyed it? I didn't think—" She slumped onto a chair in the kitchen.

"Who? Rachel? Kaz?" Russ frowned, color coming into his pale face. "Moriko—this is—Moriko, that's a _crime_. That's _theft_. Let's call—are you—are you going to make a police report?"

Russ was angry, he was actually angry, and her blankness turned into a swirl of dread and embarrassment. "No—no—it's all fixed—let's just—" Her vision went blurry, eyes leaking treacherously. "I can't—"

"Hey, no, it's cool, it's not your fault, don't feel bad," Russ said, sitting down with her, grasping her hand, and keeping up a stream of quiet reassurances until she got a hold of herself.

"I'm sorry, I just—"

"Mor, it's fine, you didn't do anything wrong."

She nodded, sniffling. "I—they always told me that they were going to send me away, and here I am _going_ —"

"They just said that stuff to mess with you—they'll do, they'll say whatever to mess with you," he said.

Sylvia trotted in and pushed her head into Moriko's lap, and she scratched the timbark's head for a few moments.

"Mor, let's go to the police, okay?"

"No," she said. "No, I don't want—what would even happen—I just want to go on the journey, and they'll want to," she faltered, "if there's a, a trial?—I'll have to stay here, and I just _cannot_ —"

Russ waved a hand. "Okay. We're still on. Whatever you decide to do, I'll help you."

"Thanks, Russ." She gripped his hand.

* * *

"Are you going to grad?" Russell's mom asked her, later.

She was tall, like him, and had merely titian hair where Russ's was a crimson genehan, but something about her eyes, her smile, was the same as his.

Moriko shook her head. "It's a waste of time. I don't want to be there and no one's looking to see me."

"Russ is." She pushed some paper money across the table. "A little grad present from me. You can do what you want with it; I'll make sure that you and Russ are well stocked for food and pokémon stuff before you leave, so don't worry about that."

"I… I shouldn't. You've already done—"

"It's yours. Happy graduation, Moriko."

She took the money, head spinning. Russ's mom didn't have to know what she really spent it on.

Russ wasn't—there was no reason he'd want to see her at grad. They were friends, and he'd be looking at the other guys at grad, dressed up. She racked her brain if it was something he was keeping secret from his parents and she couldn't remember, so she kept quiet.

She biked out to the trendy shops on the cliffside for something to do, and she saw some girls from school getting their makeup done, laughing together and then bundled into someone's dad's car to head home to get dressed. A frisson of something—doubt, fear, longing—ran up her arms and she found herself looking at the time on her pokédex.

Did she need a ticket? She thought it was just for the food, you could turn up at the hall for nothing.

It was going to be stupid, it wouldn't be like a real grad on TV, at the real high schools in Kalos and Hoenn, not a shitty rinkydink outregional town's community center party.

Was she actually considering this?

 _No. Yes. No._

* * *

 _Yes._

Moriko found something black at the gown rental place, a shapeless tube for a shapeless body, but it looked… okay. And she could move in it, the slashed sides letting her walk.

Heels? No. Flat dress sandals. She slapped the paper money onto the rental counter, saw pokéballs, potions, travel food dry up and blow away and she cursed herself, but she was doing this, somehow.

She managed to get a walk-in at a salon that the internet said wasn't too expensive, but it was trendy and the hairdressers had chic haircuts and outfits in a mishmash of styles, tartan and silk and denim stamped with ironic Terran logos and diluted clan-emblems.

Her assigned stylist had long hair slashed with expensive proprietary genehan colors and lilac iris implants, the kind of striking look that she assumed was fashionable.

He grasped Moriko's green hair, freed of its ponytail, as she sat in the barber's chair. "What a great color! Is it a genehan? Or are you second?"

"Half," Moriko said.

" _That's_ good to know," the stylist said, turning a caddy of hair products around. "The hair structure accepts colors or perms differently than normal hair."

"I just want it styled," Moriko said nervously, noting the 'normal'. "No dyes. Please."

"Definitely, no problem. This is for your graduation?"

"Yeah, it's tonight, and there's a party, so…"

"Very nice, did you have a look in mind? Let's go through some magazines," he added, seeing Moriko's stricken look.

The hairdresser eventually produced a sleek and subtly curly style that framed her face well, applying an enhancer that made the forest green richer and shinier, hinting at blue and purple tones.

The makeup artist went to work with concealer and eyeliner, smoothing out an old scar and making her orange eyes seem pretty and glowing instead of the usual wolf-in-the-firelight gleam.

 _See? I can play too, I can look good,_ she thought.

She ignored the little pulse that said "fake" over and over.

* * *

Moriko set out into the evening painted and garbed for battle. No bike, because of the gown, and Russell had already left, probably joining their schoolfriends in a rented limo, so she walked.

This, regrettably, gave her time to think, and her stomach got tighter and tighter the closer she got. She made an averting gesture at a particularly ghoulish thought, and then looked around bashfully to see if anyone had seen her, as good as talking to herself.

 _Sunk cost_ , Moriko thought, checking her face in her pokédex camera to make sure the makeup was all still in place. She tucked it back into the little shoulder purse, which tapped against her leg as she walked.

She imagined striding into the hall boldly, doors crashing open and music rising in a crescendo as she appeared, everyone's attention on her.

She snuck in through the kitchen.

A couple of servers started to tell her that she wasn't supposed to be there, but turned back to their tasks when they saw her making a beeline for the hall doors anyway.

Her graduating class wasn't that big, but there was a confusion of tables and decoration to push through, and then…

She walked up to Russell and he smiled like the sun.

"Looking good," he said.

She smiled back, and her eyes dropped shyly. The tuxedo flattered his tall figure, for all that it was a generically sized rental, and he looked great with muted makeup and styled hair. She pushed away a treacherous thought, an impossible and unfair one, one that surfaced now and then at inopportune times.

No one else noticed her.

Russ was standing with their classmates: Angela, Dave, Yuki, Ahmad, all the rest—Angela flicked her eyes over Moriko and said nothing, and so no one else said anything either.

She stood around, yelling to Russell over the music occasionally when there was a break in his conversation. The music changed after Shun said something to the DJ and everyone piled closer to the stage to start dancing.

People looked at her and their eyes slid off quickly when she saw them looking.

She found herself standing alone, hovering between cheap party cutouts and whirling masses of tissue paper, hanging back with the servers clearing used plates and cups while everyone else danced and smiled and cheered.

 _What am I_ doing _here?_ Moriko thought, and some of the numbness fell off at last, and she crushed her plastic party cup in her hands. _I am_ trying, she thought, furious. _I am trying so hard. This was supposed to be_ it. _This was supposed to work. Why isn't it working?_

 _You're not real,_ she thought. _You're not real and they can smell it on you. They know. They have always known._

She slipped outside between songs.

 _What is real, then?_

 _Pokémon. Battling. The road._

The night air was cool and bracing, washing away the shut-in closeness of the hall, and when she breathed it in it felt like medicine.

She started walking home. The rented sandals pinched her feet and the rented dress swished as she walked, constricting. She keyed her pokédex, the projected screen appearing in the dimness. "Taxi," she said, and she looked at the rates displayed and shook her head.

A pair of eyes appeared in the darkness and she swore quietly, but she realized it was Tarahn, and she breathed out in a rush.

Moriko bent awkwardly in the dress to scratch his cheeks, losing her fingers in his fur.

"Everything okay?" the raigar asked.

"Everything's dumb."

"Are you going home already?"

"Yeah. It was stupid."

"No one wanted to dance with you? I can, if you want," Tarahn said. "It's like this, right?" He stood up on his hind legs and put one paw on her shoulder, then swayed a little, his tail whipping around to keep his balance. "See? Human dancing."

A smile cracked onto her face, despite herself, despite everything.

"Thanks, sparky," she said, as he dropped back onto all fours. She wiped at her eyes and then swore at the smudged mascara. "Let's go. These shoes were a bad choice."


	3. The Near Road

Chapter 2

 _A Meeting / The Near Road / Regional Park / We Ran but It Was There Waiting_

– _June 15_ _th_ _-18_ _th_ _, 128 CR_

Moriko and Russell rode their bikes to Professor Willow's lab, an H-shaped building with a domed greenhouse and a fenced-off orchard that local kids trespassed on dares. It was outside of town on the road to Umber Village, set far enough back on the cliff for the view of the sea to be mostly obscured by the port's buildings.

A couple of machamp were carrying heavy bags of fertilizer to the greenhouse when they parked their bikes; they waved at them and the pokémon waved back with spare hands.

The lab had a lived-in, homey feeling with all the grad students and postdocs working there. Potted plants and notice boards covered in local flyers were in abundance; rules about keeping hallways cleared had become a little lax. They passed rooms humming with machinery, or with students talking and music playing.

A gardevoir carrying a lab notebook passed them as they approached Prof. Willow's office. "Good luck! A big crowd today!" the pokémon said.

Russ watched him go by. "A crowd?"

"Russ! Are you—oh."

Moriko watched the new arrivals warily: Angela, Dave, Victoria, and Kai were all leaving, carrying day bags and wearing traveling clothes and stylish trainer belts, every inch the well-to-do questants. They looked like a still from a trainer drama with Dave's surfer tan and Vic's expensive genehan hair.

They stopped, seeing her; the silence drew out as they all looked past each other, as tense as gunslingers.

"Russ," Vic said, sudden. "Come with us."

Russ blinked. "Uh, thanks, I'm good—why? I'm going with Moriko."

"You don't have to, Russ," Angela said.

"What?"

"After what she did?" Kai asked, his eyes flicking over to Moriko.

"After I did what?"

The group's faces crumpled in scorn; Moriko felt her lip curl and she stared back at them, pugnacious, but tiny needles of dread lanced their way up her back.

"Oh my gods," Angela muttered.

Kai: "Seriously?"

The affability started to fall off of Russ's face. "What's this about?"

"What did she tell you?" Angela said, challenging.

Russ smiled. "I can't follow this conversation. I'm traveling with Moriko. Thanks for the invite."

Angela shook her head and drew away, walking past them, and the other three started to follow.

"Whatever you're _getting_ , dude, it's not worth it," Dave blurted out.

" _Excuse me_?" Moriko said.

Russ jerked back. "I'm gay, you complete raisin—"

"Everyone's a little bit bi—"

"Holy fuck Dave, do not," Vic snapped. "Way to cede the moral high ground, ninnyhammer," she said, casting an apologetic glance at Russell. She clamped her hand around Dave's upper arm and dragged him off, half-seriously.

"Call me, dude, anytime," Kai said to Russ, over his shoulder.

"All the saints," Russell swore, when the hallway was empty.

Moriko's mind whirled. "What the hell was that?" What had she 'done'? And her stomach twisted, embarrassed at Dave's implication. How many people thought that?

She cringed and pressed on her eyes with the heels of her hands. Well, she could see how people came to that conclusion—the village weirdo and the nice boy who was friends with everyone was surely self-explanatory given the nature of the latter, but of course people would seek juicier rumors—

She nearly leapt as Russ touched her shoulder and he jerked his hand away.

"Sorry—"

"No—it's—"

"I'm sorry," Russ said. He was blushing, the flush bright on his pale skin. "I'm sorry they were saying that stuff. I don't know what they were talking about." He pulled out his pokédex. "Do… you want me to find out? I'll message them."

 _I hate it who cares just leave it_ —but she wanted to know, the part of her that would click through to see violence, to watch in dreadful fascination, it wanted to know. Was it something about how she'd fought with her aunt? About school? About Russ? She felt sick at that last one.

"Of course, I mean, what if it's about you, they think I—hurt you or something—"

Russ nodded, going even redder if that was possible. "Let's just go see Prof. Willow—I'll ask them later, when I'm less mad."

"Sure. I'm sorry Russ, what a clusterfuck—"

"It's not your fault. And for the record you've never—I can't even _think_ of what they're saying—"

"I'm sure it's some rumor, some lie." She took a deep breath. "We're almost out."

Prof. Willow's office door was dotted with photos of her and her students and pokémon: here she stood in her professorial graduation regalia with Vivek as he was titled Professor Mulberry IV; here a candid shot of her registering junior trainer licenses for excited ten-year-olds; here Quintus the machamp lifted a giant barrel and winked for the camera.

Russ knocked and pushed the door open at the acknowledgement from inside.

"Hey guys! Everything okay?" Prof. Willow smiled at them; she was in her forties, average height with wavy golden hair and a colorful skirt peeking out from under her lab coat.

Moriko reddened, wondering how much Prof. Willow had heard with the door closed, and if she noticed how flushed and angry they probably looked.

Russ waved a hand. "Distract us, let's get going."

Prof. Willow shrugged. "Alright—Russell and Moriko," she said contemplatively, pulling something up on her computer. "Could I see your pokédexes?"

They passed them over. Moriko thought of the old, battered one she'd gotten as a preteen here, but they'd upgraded recently and the current model looked great, still shiny. Hers was metallic green and silver while Russ's was red and gold, popular colors with a couple of decals slapped on to differentiate them.

Prof. Willow connected them both to her computer. "Since you two are leaving town I'm going to upgrade the memory and download most of the pokédex and map features—right now they're accessed on an ad hoc basis, but the cloud isn't going to be much help to you in the wilderness."

"Thanks!" Russell said. "Do we owe you anything for the increased memory?"

"Not a problem, this is part of the observation and training you have to put up with as a starter trainer."

"Will it hurt the battery life or anything?" Moriko asked.

"It shouldn't, as long as your 'dex is in low-power mode—it will charge while you're walking, but keep an eye on it, sometimes it will get stuck trying to sync futilely or to an access point that's just out of reach."

Russ nodded. "Cool, we have powerpacks just in case too."

"I'm sure you'll use them. It will blow up with notifications if you come into town or to a hotspot after being away for a while, too, which can be alarming. One of my grad students had a black metal song as her notification sound, and as we drove into Verdure Town we had to listen to overlapping screaming about witches coming out of the dark forest until someone sat on her pokédex."

"…Field trips must be a lot of fun with your group."

"They have their moments."

"Are you able to upgrade us to the adult license as well?" Russ asked.

"Yes, that's part two—that will let you challenge the first gym and keep up to four pokémon. Once you get to tier four you can have six, and send me extras, but I don't recommend it until you have a couple of high-levels. Otherwise it's like having six kindergarteners with razor claws."

Russ nodded sagely. "Four deadly kindergarteners, though, that's fine."

"Your new team members will probably have less energy than Sylvia, if only because the thought of a pokémon needing more attention than that sylpup makes me contemplate alcoholism," Prof. Willow said dryly, tapping her keyboard. "This will take a few minutes."

Russ laughed; Sylvia had mellowed as she'd gotten older, but there had been a time when she had three settings: sleeping, go fast, and go really fast.

"Could we go get Rufus while we're waiting?" Moriko asked.

"Good idea, he's in the back paddock," Prof. Willow said. She turned back to them. "Oh! There's also another trainer here looking for a group to journey with."

Moriko tensed, mentally running over the list of their classmates with trained pokémon.

"Oh—really? Who is it?" Russ asked.

"I'm not sure if you've met him before—he registered here and I gave him a seakitt a couple of years ago. He mentioned he wanted to try the league this summer and I asked him to come around today if he was ready." Prof. Willow leaned forward. "He's already quite knowledgeable about training, he might be a help, in fact. Otherwise I'll send him to the pokémon center and he can start trying to find a group there or online."

"Hmm…" Russell looked pensive. "You didn't suggest he go with Angela and them?"

Prof. Willow made a vague gesture. "I thought it would be good if you two had a third companion. Two is the bare minimum and there have been a few ranger alerts this month, out in the hinterlands. If it doesn't work out you guys can split up at the next town, too. Don't commit to anything with a stranger, but I'd consider it a favor if you gave him a chance."

Russ nodded. "Sure, we can chat with him at least."

They left Prof. Willow to the pokédexes and went out, passing the last couple of labs and a classroom where a grad student was giving a talk to some middle schoolers. The grad student was explaining some principle of pokémon growth or battling, but the young trainers were fidgety, eager to get back out to the practice yard.

Moriko and Russ pushed out the back doors to the nearby pokémon habitats. The fire-type paddock had several volcalf and burnox in it who belonged to other, younger starter trainers. They'd be more active in a few weeks as their trainers headed to summer battling classes, or just wandered into junior battles around town. Kids from families with more money might even take trips to other regions to challenge gyms there.

There was a steaming heated pool for the fire-types and grooming machines. A couple of other pokémon lounged around as well, including a ponyta and a hellion; they might be trades or presents, or owned by traveling trainers visiting or working for Prof. Willow.

Rufus lowed happily when he saw them coming and trotted out of the sandy paddock onto the lawn behind the lab. He was a burnox, a fire- and steel-type bull with a red-orange hide and dark spots, and spirit flames glowing along his head, neck, and tail.

He headbutted Moriko gently and she staggered.

"Hey buddy," she wheezed. "Are you ready to go?"

"A-yup," Rufus said. He hummed as she scratched the biometal plates embedded in his flesh.

"Are you guys Russell and Moriko?"

They turned to see another trainer with a tibyss behind him, the final stage of the water starter Prof. Willow gave out. It was a midnight blue panther dotted with orange markings, tall and imposing: it had its row of orange spinal fins raised a little, challenging, even as its trainer tried to be casual.

"That's us," Russell said, approaching and shaking hands with the newcomer. "You are?"

"Matt. Matthew Reyes, nice to meet you."

Moriko shook his hand as well; they were of a height, but he was stockier, with brown skin a shade lighter than hers and dark blue hair. He was dressed the same as they were, with traveling clothes, a trainer belt, and a huge camping backpack that he'd left by the door.

"Who's this?" she asked, looking at the tibyss.

"Call me Maia," the pokémon said in a deep, hoarse voice.

Moriko smiled. "This is Rufus," she said, and the burnox dipped his head.

Maia inclined her head to him and relaxed her fins a fraction.

Introductions out of the way, Russ asked, "I heard you needed a group to travel with?"

"That's right. I've got all my own gear and I did a couple of summers in Johto as a kid, but I've been hearing all the horror stories here for years. Willow said that she had a bunch of trainers she'd mentored leaving this summer so I figured this was the right time to go."

"Did you go to high school here? I've never seen you around."

Matt's mouth quirked. "I did distance learning; I was in and out of hospitals for a couple of years as a kid and I got used to it. When we moved here I didn't want to do the new kid thing. You might have seen me at the dojo up on the hill, I battled there a couple nights a week."

"Oh nice," Moriko said, "I wish I'd gotten out there more often. That must be why Maia is fully evolved." She should have trained more seriously, but with school and work it was merely the occasional junior trainer battle. Too late now.

"Yup, yup. Good practice."

Maia bumped Matt's shoulder with her head and he scratched behind her ear and along her jaw. He was comfortable with his pokémon, who was affectionate; he seemed to be a good trainer.

"Prof. Willow was upgrading our pokédexes, let's go see if she's done yet," Russ said, to forestall an awkward silence.

Matt nodded and walked ahead, grabbing his bag; Maia seemed to take up the whole hallway as they passed through the doors back into the lab. Moriko recalled Rufus and they went back inside.

"What do you think?" Russ murmured to her as they hung back.

Moriko flicked her fingers. "No objections. Let's see if we can make it to Umber."

* * *

They left the bikes with Prof. Willow; Russ's dad would come back to pick them up later. They checked their bags one more time, comparing with Matt's gear, before heading to the bus stop.

After the confrontation with Angela and her group, Moriko couldn't help whipping her head around at every vehicle noise. She glanced back down the road as if her aunt and uncle were about to come screeching up to try to haul her away. She tried to turn it into anger— _come at me, then_ —but she just wanted to run.

Moriko felt a giddy relief as the bus finally arrived, and by the time they reached the station outside of Port Littoral, she felt like a weight had lifted, though not that of her enormous bag. The bus station was busy with traveling trainers drawn in from Littoral and nearby villages, and workers commuting to distant sites like the power plant up the coast. It was the beginning of the league season, with high school seniors leaving school at last and a few college-age trainers, late—their classes had ended in May or so.

Their pokédexes pinged with incidental contacts; it would be interesting to see if they kept running into the same trainers, or to see who would fall behind or rush ahead or go home. Moriko wondered if there would be a wait at the first gym in Umber Village, but it was so close to Port Littoral that some of these trainers might have the badge already after a weekend trip during the school year, if they already had the adult license. They might be going on to Verdure Town instead, or one of the regional parks.

"Excited?" Russell asked Matt, who was wiping his hands on his hiking pants over and over.

"Yeah! Yeah, I haven't left the city much. This will be a test. I can be a bit of a homebody."

"Oh, really? Did you live with your parents?"

"Yeah, they weren't around that often," Matt said lightly. "I rushed through the correspondence courses and did a lot of battling with Maia, some little jobs around town. I would have liked to do a few badges in another region, sooner, but the money wasn't there or it wasn't the right time." He shrugged.

"I almost talked my parents into letting me and Moriko go to Kalos last year but they just kept dithering until it was too expensive and everyone was pissed off. We should've just ran away from home, like in the old days," Russ said, dryly.

Moriko smiled, rueful; she'd definitely lacked the money for that one and trying to get her aunt and uncle on board had been futile. With hindsight it had been hopelessly naïve to think that they'd allow or pay for it. She tried to remember how it had been when she was a middle schooler, if it had always been like this, with the yelling fights and capricious reversals that left her dreading coming home at times. It must have been; they'd taken her to get a starter as a preteen, and she and Angela had even been friendly, once.

She shook her head. "It would have been weird, anyway. Everyone would think we were more experienced, by our ages."

"Actually, lots of people are waiting until they're out of high school to do any badges," Matt said. "Kids still get a starter or a rescue pokémon at the pokécenter but they just keep it as a pet until they're fifteen, sixteen."

"Really? Man, I charged out right at age ten. Junior license, starter pokémon, junior pokédex, the whole bit. I think you were there that day, too, Moriko, with your cousin."

She nodded. She remembered that gaggle of fifth graders and the younger, harried Professor Willow with her mentor, Professor Yew, and the random drawing of the pick order—there were starter pokémon, standard with predictable evolution times and abilities, but also plainer local pokémon like clawbit or krabby.

They'd spent some time with the old professor, her experienced eye matching child with young pokémon, and Moriko had ended up with Rufus, who had been—still was—gentle and patient, and an ebullient battler as well.

"If the league allowed it, I'd have done the first couple badges last summer," Russ said. "We could've taken a bus there, it's the wild areas that are the problem."

"Yeah, that would have been safe enough. So some kids in Kanto or wherever are waiting too? There's nothing to worry about there, though. They don't even do badges during the summer?" Moriko asked.

"There's a lot of pressure to do summer exam prep, schools are competitive there," Matt said. "A young pokémon is a lot of work, too, and people don't want to put in the time."

That was true; low-level pokémon needed a lot of attention. Higher-level ones were powerful and intelligent, but they expended a lot of energy and often slept away days or weeks in pokéballs. They'd had Professor Willow and her employees to keep their starter pokémon busy if needed, but Tarahn had gotten into mischief more than once, wandering around town.

Well, they were on their way. People shifted on the platform; they looked up and saw their bus approaching, the electric motor humming, and they lined up to board.

Eventually the bus pulled away, heading for the Seawood Regional Park. Moriko watched the buildings recede, hidden behind hills, and shifted so the scratchy upholstery wasn't touching her bare skin.

She felt like she could breathe, finally, as forest and fields whipped by out the bus window, and she tried to hold herself back from pressing her face against the glass.

Russ looked up at her from a book on his pokédex and smiled too, and he put out his hand and they bumped fists. "We made it," he said quietly.

"Freedom."

Moriko watched the scenery as the bus headed inland, and she started humming the theme from the _Legendary_ games to herself under her breath.

* * *

Regional Parks were places where pokémon and trainers congregated; something about them was attractive to pokémon, which attracted trainers, which attracted pokémon looking for trainers. Pokémon could be quite aggressive at testing potential partners, so it was dangerous to go in without your own pokémon.

In the more populous regions, many wild pokémon had partnered with a trainer for a few seasons and then returned to the wild, powerful and attracting notoriety within their societies. It was common for young pokémon, especially those socially low-ranking, to seek out a trainer, and they usually had a clear expectation for the advantages a human trainer would provide.

Since the Gaiien League was newer, the stories that wild pokémon told each other about humans and human trainers were more garbled. Pokémon would still seek out trainers, but more rarely, and they would attack as they would with other wild pokémon, to try to establish dominance or defend a territory. They'd likely end up releasing caught pokémon who didn't have the right idea.

Seawood was in a valley, wooded with a river passing through it and the dry prairie beyond. The bus trundled down the slope, swallowed by trees, and the shadows of the tall cedars alternated with flashes of sun.

They spilled out of the bus with the other passengers, mostly other tier one trainers in new hiking gear staggering under their big bags. A few adult trainers with worn pokéballs stepped off as well and took fishing gear out of the luggage compartment of the bus.

They lined up for a campsite number from the park office. Moriko tried to eavesdrop to judge where others would be, whether to try to catch them for a battle or to try to avoid them. There was a healing machine, so battles would be fine, and they had potions in case a wild pokémon battle got serious further away. It would be good to conserve them—Russ had money from his parents, but Moriko's budget didn't have a lot of wiggle room.

It was early evening when they came to their site at last and did a short inspection, making sure the water pump worked and checking overhead for dead tree limbs. The campsites were well-maintained, and caretaker ground-type pokémon built a slight grade in the soil so that they wouldn't be swimming in a heavy rain.

They let the pokémon out and pulled out their most perishable food for dinner. A couple of clawbit turned up to watch them, but fled as soon as Sylvia trotted over.

"Don't chase them," Matt said, hurriedly, and Sylvia glanced at him and then at Russ.

"They're usually too underlevel if they just run," Russ explained. "Little kids, probably."

Sylvia thumped her long, leafy tail on the forest floor. "Let's go look for some stronger ones!"

"Soon," Russ said, laughing. "Let's get set up here first."

Moriko and Matt set up the tents while Russ made sandwiches. They all had narrow one-person setups, although good friends who didn't snore might have been able to lighten their load with a single tent and leave behind some of the other redundant gear as well.

Moriko set up Russ's tent for him and definitely didn't notice how silky and new the bright synthetic fabric was compared to her secondhand one. She sighed at herself—her tent was fine. They'd tested them out on a rainy night in Russ's backyard and her tent was as good as new after a touch-up with water-repelling sealant on a couple seams.

Rufus and Sylvia played, pushing each other harmlessly: the timbark was faster, darting in to tag the burnox repeatedly with her tail and then spinning away, and he reared up pretending to chase her around the campsite and between the trees. Maia watched, dozing in the shade with her head on her paws. Tarahn had climbed a tree and his yellow-and-purple motley was visible from his smug perch.

After dinner they had a couple hours of daylight left, so Matt left his second pokémon, a huge wood-brown ursaring, to guard the camp while they set out on a short walk.

They followed voices and passed a couple other campsites. Some were absent of campers, or had a guard pokémon—an old and high-level serperior slithered out of the trees near one site, and they gave it a wide berth—and some had fires set up and a pleasant smell of food cooking, or music playing on portable speakers.

The river split around an island nearby, and there were campers wading in the cool water, which was overhung by willows. Maia strode in smoothly and was immediately hit by a stream of water from a silteel, who fled away toward the downstream fishers before she could retaliate.

They saw another group of trainers eye them and then approach. They were well-dressed with day bags, like Angela's group, and Moriko tensed up imagining another confrontation.

"Hey! Are you guys from Port Littoral?" a girl asked, her hand on her trainer belt with two pokéballs.

"Yeah, where are you all from?"

"Beaumaris Town, it's further up the coast, with all the tidal power installations." She made a face. "It's good to get away from home, eh?"

"You don't know the half of it," Moriko said, relaxing. She heard a gurgle behind her; Matt hadn't stopped for pleasantries, and his tibyss had soaked her opponent with a water attack. "Were you looking for a battle?"

The other trainer smiled. "A short one, not to fainting."

"Fine with me." She selected Tarahn's pokéball, watched as the other girl held one out as well. "Ready?"

They released at the same time, good etiquette, and Tarahn appeared, eager, opposite a jolteel that hovered over the stones on the riverbank. It was striped with color like braided wires, with growths resembling lightbulbs in a dorsal ridge.

 _Jolteel, the marquee pokémon. A water- and electric-type, it evolves from vitreel with age or with a thunder stone artifact. They are a common sight in coral reefs, and gather energy from thunderstorms and the change in the tide._

"Is that your first pokémon?" Moriko asked.

"Yeah, they're all over the place near the power plant," the girl said. "I basically just reached in and took her home. Water gun, by the way."

Tarahn sidestepped, half-hit by the jet of water, and leapt at the jolteel, his claws skittering on the stones. She wove out of the way and hit him with another water gun as he landed. The raigar growled and used an electric attack reflexively, but cut it off and slashed, his claws dragging venomous lines along the jolteel's bright scales.

"Flash, Jilly!"

"Copycat, Tarahn!"

The light-type technique was doubled and a searing glow illuminated the riverbank, casting hard black shadows. Moriko shielded her eyes—it was rare to worry about special attacks at the junior level but sometimes the non-damaging ones could get you. The other girl was left blinking as well, while Tarahn and the jolteel had felt the full force of the flash and were lashing blindly at each other.

Moriko looked at the other trainer and they both recalled their pokémon. Tarahn had taken a couple of hits, but he'd be fine in the morning.

"Nice one," the girl said, and they shook hands. "Are you going to Umber Village next?"

"Yeah, first badge."

"I got it during spring break," the girl said, and she indicated a triangular badge on the inside of her light jacket; it was a stylized dust devil. "Verdure Town, next, for us—but we're a little out of practice. Gotta battle on our way there to fight at tier two."

"Good luck! Do you have a pokémon with a type advantage for the gym there?"

The girl smiled. "And that's another thing! See you 'round."

Moriko sighed gratefully as the other trainer rejoined her friends. There was at least one other person out there who was friendly and normal, and Moriko knew battling, she knew what to say—

"Hey! Wanna battle?"

Moriko looked over the new arrival and declined, seeing Matt and Russ moving down the riverbank.

He got aggressive. "You can't refuse a battle! Are you a trainer or not?"

She frowned, stung, but backed off toward her group. "Sorry, my pokémon is hurt."

"You have two pokémon! Come on!"

"She said no, buddy," Russ said.

"What, are you trying to poach?" Matt said scornfully.

Poaching was challenging someone right after a battle, catching them with weakened pokémon—it was a common way for the hero to lose in trainer dramas, softening the blow to their reputation. That "are you a trainer or not?" crack was straight out of _Kanto Quest_ or _Pokémon Journey Kalos_.

"Why don't you battle me, then," the kid said. He tilted his hat at a rakish angle. "Or are you a coward?"

Matt laughed in his face. "Are you twelve? That doesn't work in real life."

"You have to, dude!"

"You have to kiss my ass, buddy."

The would-be challenger looked more and more confused at this gambit not working, and stalked off the beach to look for other targets.

"I thought this childish stuff would be done with everyone over eighteen," Matt said, groaning. "Who would respond to that?"

"He kind of pissed me off, I might have battled him," Moriko admitted.

Russ nodded. "Yeah, if you nettle someone—"

"You have to be careful," Matt said. "Even if it's not for money you can be left in a bad spot with all your pokémon fainted."

Moriko glanced at him. "What, that kid? Like he's going to do anything—"

"You never know—"

"So weird," Russ interrupted. "An aggressive performance of the dark rival character from _Legendary._ "

"I guess, and the hero has to fight with honor and accept any challenge, or something. Think again," Matt said. Maia came up behind him and he scratched her neck, eliciting a deep purr. "I mean, not that I'd lose."

"Sounds like you're the cocky rival instead," Russ said.

As the sun set they walked back to their campsite, Maia leading the way with her bioluminescent markings glowing in the dimness. Rufus was a comforting presence beside Moriko, his spirit flames enough to see by without pulling out a flashlight.

Matt's ursaring grunted to them as they walked up and it returned itself to its ball. Their camp seemed to be safe enough unattended, although with kids trying underhanded moves like back at the beach they might have to pack up everything if they'd be gone for longer than a couple of hours.

Russ built up the fire and soon they had a comforting blaze going. The evening was pleasant without it, but it would keep animals away while attracting pokémon. Russ revealed that he'd packed a small bag of marshmallows as well and they set them roasting on sticks, and Rufus requested and received one that was black and on fire.

They sat around chatting and listened to Tarahn attempt to tell jokes, but something was lost in translation—or maybe they really were only funny to him, since Maia and Sylvia just put their heads on the side at what rhythm and intonation seemed to indicate was the punchline. His physical comedy drew laughs, at least.

At one point, Matt looked at Moriko across the fire and did a double-take.

"Are you... half?" he asked.

Moriko's stomach tightened. He'd probably seen the reflection on her tapetum from the firelight. "Yes," she managed to say.

Matt tilted his head and she saw it—the eyeshine on his yellow eyes.

He was part-second crossing. Like her.

She hadn't noticed it in the daytime, and lots of people had genehan hair and eyes, but you had to be part second-crossing to have that reflectivity.

Matt watched her with a hopefulness that he was trying to hide. "You said that you lived with your aunt and uncle?"

"Yes." She closed her mouth on all the things she could say about them. "They're third crossing."

What was unsaid hung in the air between them, and he said instead, "My mom is second crossing. Didn't tell me much about her people, though. Enough to make me wonder."

She looked away, out into the forest. There was nothing to say; she probably knew even less than him.

Matt went on: "I wanted to see if I could visit with anyone who knew more, an, an elder or someone. A lot of the old clans were chased out of Johto and went north, or to other regions."

"I've heard there are more second-crossing people living in the north of Gaiien, but other than that I'm not sure," Moriko said finally.

"...Don't you want to know? Aren't you curious?" Matt asked, a thread of something—annoyance, scorn—creeping into his voice.

She shook her head, poking the fire with a long stick. "What use would it be? It's better if you hide it." She looked at him. "They'll use it against you. Maybe you don't know, since you were homeschooled—"

"Of course I know," Matt said coldly. "You _can't_ hide, so don't try. The people of the second crossing—they have power, techniques we've forgotten—" He made a choked noise and Russ looked at him, but he waved a hand, dismissing.

Moriko shrugged. "It's better not to know. That time is over. I just want to… not be noticed."

Matt said nothing, his face set.

They let the fire burn down and then turned in for the night, the pokémon resting in their pokéballs, watchful with mysterious senses.

Moriko lay in her tent in the secondhand summer sleeping bag. A faint odor clung to both items, of someone's closet and the hydrophobic sealants they'd treated them with. Crickets sang in the darkness; wind rustled the treetops. Moriko thought of rain and checked her pokédex, but the signal was bad and the wi-fi hotspot too far away.

She lay there a long time, thinking, still wound up even after the long day and early start. And her heart sped up unmercifully every time she thought about what had happened: the screaming fight at the house, the problem with the bank, Angela's group watching her with disgust and wariness.

She thought of the kid on the beach challenging her. _Are you a trainer or not?_

She just wanted to leave. She'd tried to—fit in? gods, that sounded pathetic, but it was true: she'd tried to obey, tried to follow the path of a good student, tried to participate in the all-important milestones like everyone else—and she was a fraud, her heart wasn't in it and everyone knew. She should have taken her savings and run away, skipped school like the dramas—like the old tradition, to leave home and hearth to train with a master with a shared type affinity. There were regions where it was still allowed.

Well, she'd left at last. She didn't want any more trouble. Did that look like running?

She'd felt relief earlier in the day, renewed, skin shed and Moriko the trainer born at last, and now—what could her aunt and uncle do next? Would they try anything else? Send rangers after them? They were adults, they were properly registered with the league, they'd been vetted by a professor, their pokémon had been verified many times.

Moriko tried to imagine something properly nasty, but she could only summon up pranks—or ludicrously escalated situations: fire, murder, false accusations, TV drama absurdities. She groaned softly and covered her eyes.

Tarahn let himself out of his ball, the glow blinding in the narrow tent. He shuffled closer and sniffed her breath, whiskers tickling her face. "You're not sleeping."

She sighed. "I'm trying."

The raigar pricked his ears, turning his head briefly at something. He stretched out his forelegs like the sphinx and purred, wedged between her and the tent fabric, and she stroked his paws.

"What are you worried about?" he said eventually.

She entertained the idea of explaining complex human social expectations to a pokémon. _Nah._

"You remember how my aunt attacked me? I'm worried that will happen again."

"That happens sometimes after you're in a battle," Tarahn said. "It's over but your body doesn't know that. It helps if you go back into your pokéball for a while."

Moriko smiled and reached over, scratching his chin. "Where's my pokéball?"

The raigar's tail thumped, acknowledging the difficulty. "You can probably beat her in a battle anyway, she doesn't have any pokémon. So don't worry about it. I'll fight her."

"I wish. But she'll tell the rangers on you."

"I asked Maia if it was all right to fight a human who wants to hurt your trainer, and she said yes," Tarahn retorted. "I believe her, she's very smart."

Moriko laughed softly. "Only in defense—you can thunder wave her, if she wants to fight me." _Not that that will do anything until you're level fifty._

"Good plan. Now you can fall asleep." Tarahn leaned forward, smelling her breath again. "You're falling asleep, right?"

* * *

Early summer light woke them, shining through the tent fabric. Moriko groaned and tried to turn over for a while, but shortly Russ was up and pinching her toes through the sleeping bag. Matt was already up, restarting the fire from embers. It was cool and breezy, and they cooked instant oatmeal with dried fruit and protein powder while planning the day.

"Have you ever caught a wild pokémon?" Matt asked Moriko.

"Not really I guess, Rufus was my starter and Tarahn followed me home."

"I can show you how, you need to—"

Moriko put out a hand. "No, no thanks, I'm good, I know how it goes."

"Are you sure?" Matt smiled, testing her. "Do you know what it looks like when a pokémon doesn't want to be caught?"

Moriko felt a little prickle of annoyance. "Sure, it will run away after a couple of blows, or even when you first see it."

Matt nodded, reluctantly allowing that she might be familiar with this basic principle. "It's a waste of a pokéball otherwise. Sometimes you'll catch a pokémon who isn't interested, and it's better to just release it on the spot."

She nodded. "Yup, I know that one."

"Did you catch any pokémon?" Russell asked. "Other than your starter, I mean."

"No, I was given Bjorn as a teddiursa, so I was at the limit for the junior license. Would have been nice to go to another region and catch a few more."

"First time for everyone, then," Moriko said mildly.

They packed their day bags and headed out further into the park. The undergrowth was lush and mossy in the shadowed parts of the valley and drier on the south-facing slope, with long grass brittle and yellowed in the sun.

Russ was in the lead when they heard rustling and a clawbit darted out in front of him, and he had Sylvia's pokéball out after a heartbeat.

 _Clawbit, the hare pokémon. A normal-type, it evolves to warhare near level 20. They are a common sight all over Gaiien. They use their red ears and white tail to signal one another at a distance._

The clawbit flipped to kick powerfully with its hind legs, and struck Sylvia as she leaned away from the attack. The timbark growled, snapping, but her opponent had already withdrawn and was kicking dirt at her face.

"Rootbind, Sylvia," Russ said.

Tendrils of energy snaked out of the ground and caught one of the clawbit's hind legs. It wrestled with them, squeaking, and erupted into a surprised screech as Sylvia bit its back. Furious, it scratched at her face, but she growled and shook her head, aggravating the attack.

"Syl, drop it!"

The timbark obeyed his command; Russ threw a pokéball at the clawbit's slumped form, and it closed and pinged a confirmation immediately.

"Nice one!" Moriko said.

Matt nodded. "Let's head to the next rest site and you can get it healed up."

At a bend in the river there was an empty fire pit and benches, and Matt let Maia out to dip her paws in the shallow water.

Russ released the clawbit and it reemerged still injured, but not phasing into energy, as pokémon did when severely hurt. He murmured something, spraying potion on its wounds, and the hare pokémon squeaked indignantly at the sting as they closed.

"Hey, I'm Russell," he said, holding out a bit of apple to the clawbit. "Thanks for the battle."

The clawbit sat up and looked at him with dewy eyes. It perked up its ears and nose at the treat he held out, and it ran like a shot back into the underbrush.

There was a beat, and Matt laughed—cruelly, Moriko thought, and she glared—but Russ started to laugh too.

"Well, I mean, that's pretty clear," Russ said. "Too bad."

"That's how it goes. You shouldn't have used rootbind," Matt said. "It would have run away after a couple of attacks otherwise. Save yourself the pokéball and potion next time."

Russ smiled ruefully. "We'll see some others. Back to walking I guess."

They saw few pokémon after that, just rustles and then nothing or a pair of fleeing hindquarters. Birdsong and chipmunks were more common, and the hum of insects. At the next rest stop there were adult trainers fishing, and they'd had better luck with trout—no pokémon either.

"I was led to believe we'd be fighting off encounters with a stick," Russ said.

"I wish," one of the fishers said, a woman in hip waders. "Today is real sparse though, normally I have to have my barbaracle do a little battling. Something big might've flown over in the early morning and scared them into their hidey-holes."

"Like an aircraft?"

"Sometimes, but a high-level pokémon would make them hunker down too—it can be hard to judge their intentions if they're passing through and not a local elder. Nothing on my pokédex about it, though—the aura gradient would have been picked up by RES monitoring if it was big."

Moriko was wishing she'd gone to another region again by their turn-around point—they were tired and hungry with nothing to show for it but Russ's failed capture and a couple of attacks traded with a warhare that fled.

They forded the river at a shallows, hoping the opposite bank would be more fruitful on the way back. Matt had Maia out and walking with them, and she sniffed at the roots of trees periodically before finally leaning up a large maple.

A chrystalis was under one of the branches, half-hidden in the bark; it was light gray-blue with a faceted shell.

 _Chrystalis, the cocoon pokémon. A bug- and crystal-type, it evolves from pilosite near level 10 and to papiliris near level 20. It is almost immobile but can use special attacks to discourage opponents. When it evolves, the cast-off shell is valuable to collectors._

The chrystalis glared at them with one eye as they gathered around to peer at it.

"Want to fight?" Matt called up at it.

"Hark at this brave soul that wants to fight a cocoon," it replied. "Do you steal from infants as well?"

Matt grinned. "What, are you telling me you aren't interested?"

"I hid myself in this tree for a reason, killer, I can't move."

Maia lashed her tail suddenly, scattering an attack headed for her side: glittering stars flew into the undergrowth and dissipated.

"Well, I have one move," it added.

"You're not doing this unobtrusive chrysalis thing very well," Moriko said.

"You should come with me and not worry about it." Matt stroked Maia's fur idly and nodded toward her. "She might even forgive you."

"I'm good," it said. "Go look for a clawbit leaving its parent or a duspine or something."

"We tried," Moriko said. "Where is everybody? We've been tromping all over the park and we've hardly seen any pokémon."

"You think every pokémon knows everyone else? You think I do, wedged under a branch? It's a real hub for gossip—"

"You might say you're a… social butterfly?"

"Russ, no."

"Uh-huh. Keep looking, trainers. Maybe they're by the river, maybe they're fighting over a source, maybe the wartingers are fighting the dusquills again. Maybe a ronin came through and scared everyone. You tell me." 'Ronin' sounded weird when it said it, echoing with subtext and sub-televocalizations.

"Not a ronin, we'd see an alert," Matt said.

"Yeah?"

"Well… we should," he amended, flipping open his pokédex to check.

Moriko couldn't help wondering at that—the park did seem to be weirdly quiet, but the fishers hadn't seen an alert either.

"Listen," the chrystalis said grudgingly, "if there is something wrong… it doesn't look good that everyone's hiding and you're hooting around as bright as anything. You call them ronin but they have followers and hangers-on, nasty little lightningrods that like to play in the storm and laugh when you get struck. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Russ said. "Sorry to bug you."

" _Russ._ "

"Your first pun was better."

"Do you need anything?" Russ added.

"Sure, pick those pieces of bark off the ground and hold them up here," the cocoon pokémon said. "No, the bigger one. Not the rotten ones. Higher."

Shortly the shed tree bark was wedged around the chrystalis, better shielding it from view from the path, and it closed its eye as they left.

* * *

They came back to the campsite frustrated and bored, and Matt sidled over to relay his unique wisdom as Moriko set up the evening fire.

"Where'd you learn to build fires? That looks terrible."

Moriko snapped dry twigs, arranging them and papery bark under the tented sticks. Her smile was as brittle as the kindling.

"A ten-year-old could make a better fire than this."

"Maybe you'd like to do it if you're not busy thinking up gradeschool insults?"

"Nice try. Well, if you put it like this—"

"Do your own work!"

"It's easy, just—"

Russell sighed and waved to Rufus, who stepped over. Russ lit a match and tossed it into the kindling, and the fire-type concentrated, inhaling and exhaling. The fire flared, consuming the largest logs.

Matt laughed. "I'm surprised that even got started."

"It's straight out of a textbook—and we have pokémon, I could have stacked them any way!"

"It's more efficient if—"

"I don't care, okay?"

"I'm just saying—"

" _Stop_ saying." Moriko stalked off to find some peace in the forest.

* * *

They made it to Umber Village, just barely.

In the end they didn't catch any pokémon, despite walking farther and farther afield, and even packing up their camp to spend the night in wilder woodland. There was a faintly oppressive air over the park, and the other trainers that they spoke to had no luck either. The only people who seemed to walk away happy were the fishers with coolers full of steelheads.

There would be other opportunities to add to their teams, so they packed up and returned to the park office to catch the bus to their next stop.

They saw plenty of regular animals from the bus windows: the fields alongside the road were fenced with bleached gray wood and often contained livestock out to graze. There were usually one or two pokémon watching over the herds, a bright spot of color amid the brown and black and white.

Animal predators usually gave pokémon a wide berth, and a high-level pokémon could hurt a wolf or a bear with elemental attacks as well as teeth and claws. They could get bored, though: pokémon didn't need to eat and so they slept a lot or wandered or conceived extended dramas with their herdmates.

The bus let them off at the fueling station in Umber Village in a swirl of dust and mirage lines floating above the road, though it was barely midmorning. It was going to be a scorching day: the sun was wilting the bleached fields of foxtails and wild grass that the wind made waves in as grasshoppers buzzed.

They walked to the pokémon center and saw Angela and the rest leaving. Moriko averted her eyes and kept walking to the counter.

"Hey," Russ said to them.

"Hey."

They all stood around awkwardly.

"Sorry about where we left everything," Dave said, finally. "How's it going?"

"Could be better, didn't catch anything in the Seawood," Russ said. "Did you guys just get here?"

"Told you we didn't miss anything by skipping the park," Kai said to Vic, who shrugged.

"Nah, we're heading out," Dave said. "We hit up the gym, not too tough."

"Check it," Victoria said to Russ. She flipped something into the air and caught it, probably the gym badge.

"Oh nice, did you have trouble with types?" Russ asked.

Moriko tried not to eavesdrop too obviously; Victoria had chosen the fire-type volcalf as her starter as well, and she was wondering how the other trainer had handled it.

"Nope, I saw a trader earlier this year and picked up an arctrix. No problems."

 _Oh._ Arctrix was an ice-type.

"Cool cool," Russ said. "Are you guys going to stop at the next park or keep going to Verdure?"

"A ground-type would be nice for badges three and four," Victoria said, counting them off on her fingers, "so I think we'll spend a couple of days in Tsugaru for sure."

"Nice, we'll probably be along as well."

Angela checked her pokédex. "Let's move out, everyone—the bus is waiting. See you later, Russ."

"Good hunting, all."

Dave clapped Russ on the back and shook his hand, saying something to him quietly, and he followed his group out the pokécenter doors.

Moriko finished her registration and gave Rufus and Tarahn's pokéballs to the attendant for a quick heal. She sat down at a waiting-room table, letting her bag fall to the ground with a grateful sigh.

Matt joined her after handing over his pokémon; it was Russ's turn at the counter now. He nodded at the doors where Angela and her group had departed.

"Friends of Russ's, but not yours?" he asked.

Moriko shrugged. "They're jerks. Russ gets along with everyone, though."

"Even you?"

"Matt, shut it."

* * *

A/N: I blew past my self-imposed deadline for this one but I return with a glorious graduate degree and a pressing need for employment. I hope to update a little faster now that I have all (ALLLLLLLL) this free time.


	4. We Waited

Chapter 3

 _Boosting / We Waited / Shedding / =Matt: Give doughnut._

– _June 18_ _th_ _-19_ _th_ _128 CR_

The three of them had lunch in the pokémon center cafeteria. There were about a dozen trainers and locals using their trainer licenses to get the free meal: spaghetti with tofu in tomato sauce, doled out on plastic plates, and an apple and mass-produced brownie. There were some nicer additions for a few hundred yen arranged temptingly at the end of the line; Moriko almost succumbed to the pastries shining beatifically under a display light but somehow held firm.

"What did your friends have to say?" Matt asked Russ.

"Angela and Dave and them all got their badges," Russ said, between bites of chewy pasta. "We should be all right."

"We should go sign up for matches after this," Matt said. "Doesn't look too busy now but there isn't much to do in the village. The wild pokémon are acting shy here too, I'm hearing."

"Not again—I wanted to catch another pokémon before I fought this gym leader. My pokémon both have double weaknesses to ground," Moriko said.

Matt scoffed. "Dude, you were _not_ planning."

Moriko felt color hit her face, but there was nothing to be said for it. There was no way she'd trade away Rufus or Tarahn, and she didn't have the money to buy a pokémon outright, to say nothing of the potential pitfalls of that type of transaction. A bug- or water-type from Seawood would have solved most of her problems, but the wild pokémon had had other plans.

"We had other stuff on our mind. Lots to plan for," Russ said diplomatically.

Matt drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "Well, the next gym is plant-type so that's no problem. Let's just keep things moving. Why don't you use Maia?"

Moriko inhaled a bit of water and coughed to clear it.

Boosting—borrowing or renting pokémon temporarily to get past a gym—had a long history and a gray reputation. It was debated and excoriated furiously online, but the more you dug the more it was obvious that lots of famous trainers had gotten their start using older relatives' pokémon, or that pokémon who were famous in their own right just used a succession of trainer puppets to organize their battling.

Even with that justification, it still felt… weird, to contemplate.

"Would she even listen to me?"

"Can't hurt to ask."

"Sylvia will," Russ said, putting her pokéball on the table. "No problem. You've seen her battle tons of times."

Moriko pressed her lips together, considering. She couldn't help watching Sylvia's pokéball hungrily, its green-leaf decal half peeled off.

"…I'll check with them."

* * *

Rufus and Tarahn were hurt, no matter how much she tried to explain about the type matchup.

They understood the double weakness, and they fretted instantly about withstanding powerful sand and mud attacks, but they were hurt, too.

Tarahn sulked, stalking away into the long grass outside the small area of the pokémon center exercise area.

Rufus dropped his head and pawed the dirt. "Don't you trust us to try?" he managed to say.

"I do, I do," Moriko said desperately. She knelt and tried to look him in the eye, but he kept swinging his huge, metal-plated head away. "Russ and Matt want to keep moving, it would be nice to just one-shot this gym. If I lose the leader will know I have you two, so I'll have to come back with new pokémon—and we couldn't find any. No one can find a wild pokémon around town either, everyone's talking about it."

"We finally get out of the city and you wanna use someone else's pokémon," Tarahn said, walking back up to them. He sat, the bells on his tail ringing discordantly as he whipped it from side to side. "You can't stop talking about gyms and then you don't want us."

"Do you think we're weak?" Rufus muttered.

"Not at all, I just—the next gym is plant-type, you guys will blow it up, right? Fire and poison." She started to reach out to pet Tarahn and then dropped her hand. "I'm sorry, I hurt your feelings, I just—Russ and Matt want to keep going, there's nothing to do in this town if we're stuck here—"

"We waited for you a long time, Moriko," the burnox said. "You said, a few more weeks, a few more months, and here we are, and you say to wait again. Are we going to train? Are you just going to use other pokémon?"

"No—of course we'll train—we battled in the park—"

"I was so _bored_ ," Tarahn groaned. "For months and months I was bored, and police pokémon just got into my face when I tried to _do_ something. I want to battle for real. Are we going to?"

Moriko watched them, aghast. "I'm sorry, I—I didn't know—I didn't know you were so unhappy—" But she was angry too: it was so hard to just survive the school year, and these two sitting in pens, lazing around in the sun—

But it was her fault, wasn't it? They couldn't do anything without a trainer. She wasn't holding up her end of the bargain.

"You're right," she said. "I'll do what you guys want. I'm sorry, I just—I'm sorry."

Rufus and Tarahn looked at her and then put their heads together, whispering—or the pokémon equivalent, excluding her from the broadcast.

Eventually the raigar lifted his paw and let one purple claw extend dramatically. "Alright," he said, "the types are a problem. We probably... it will be frustrating. Fine. Let Sylvia boost you, but you're training _us_ , right? It's us after this."

"Yes, absolutely."

"And if Sylvia loses we get to laugh at you," Rufus added.

"And you would be right to do so," Moriko agreed.

The burnox nudged her shoulder and turned to energy, recalling himself, and Tarahn shortly followed.

Moriko stared out at the prairie, still kneeling in the dirt and feeling the loose stones sharply on her skin. Images swirled in her mind's eye: Matt smirking, the hind ends of fleeing wild pokémon, and her own pokémon watching her, hurt and disapproving. Her stomach was a tight knot of shame and dismay.

Maybe she should go home, if she'd messed it up this bad right at the beginning.

But she thought of her aunt and uncle, of everyone ignoring her at school unless it was for mockery, of her one foolish college application and summary rejection, and if a new and glorious resolve didn't stab through the self pity, well, spite sure did.

Moriko rose. _I'm going to_ make _this work_ , she thought. _This is what I wanted. I'll be better. It will work after this.  
_

She knew what was back there; time to take a chance on the forward.

Inside the pokémon center, Sylvia was instantly cooperative. She started listing off all of her techniques and making recommendations about the situations to use them in.

Moriko smiled sadly at her enthusiasm, thinking of how she'd spoiled that of her own pokémon.

"Maia could go, also," Matt said. "The gym leader will propose single battles with one or two pokémon per trainer at this level."

Russ laughed. "If she wants to fight two-on-two I'll have to bother Maia as well."

"Do you mind, Maia?" Moriko asked. "We might have to go back to the pokémon center in between battles, but I'm sure it won't be too bad since you have the type advantage."

The tibyss tilted her head, appraising. "Very well. That won't be necessary, I'll be in perfect health after my battles," she rumbled.

* * *

Umber Village had a number of stores and restaurants down its main street, with the pokémon center and the fueling station at one end and the gym just across from them. Like several of the other buildings it was concrete and dug into the ground, a remnant of the days when weather manipulation was poorly understood. Now the old bunkers were merely a curiosity.

The gym seemed larger from the inside, the battle arena surrounded with a few forlorn rows of empty bleachers. The arena was a tank of sand, the usual setup favored by digging pokémon.

They jumped at the sound of stone on stone; a large, gray pokémon stumped out of a corner somewhere, glancing at them.

"Ugh, more trainers," the rhydon said. "You're here for your tier one battles?"

"Uh, yes," Moriko answered.

"Tierra will be here in a couple of minutes," it said, and took up a spot next to the arena.

As promised, the gym leader appeared from the far end of the arena, buckling on her trainer's belt. "Welcome!" she called to them. "Sorry for the wait, it's that time of year—everyone's done school and setting out for the first time. Had to get everyone healed up from the last battle." She shook their hands enthusiastically.

Tierra was stocky and full-figured, with brown skin and genehan hair in chestnut and dark green. She hadn't gone for an elaborate costume, just comfortable hiking clothes and a fishing vest dotted with pockets.

"So, I assume you all are looking for a battle," she said, grinning.

"You'd be right," said Matt, with a hint of impatience. "One-on-one for all of us."

"Great! Who's going first, then?"

Matt volunteered immediately.

"No problem, take some time to get set up and we'll get started. Dia will be the referee, unless you have any objections? She's more likely to rule against me, just to be contrary." She winked.

Matt shrugged and followed the gym leader to the arena, taking his spot at the challenger's side. He tossed Maia's pokéball from hand to hand while the gym leader trotted over to the far spot.

Moriko and Russell sat down on the bleachers and had a good view, looking down into the low surface of the battle arena. The tier one gym was at around level thirty, so they would be safe from elemental attacks, but if Tierra's other pokémon were as big as the rhydon the physical ones could pose a problem. The pokémon referee was unusual but every gym battle was recorded and could be reviewed by the league if necessary, so presumably it was legal.

"Trainers ready?" the rhydon called out in a gravelly voice. "Begin!"

"Go, Maia!"

"Go, Aisha!"

Matt's tibyss emerged in a burst of red light, sinking a little in the sand and casting her glance over the arena in a quick assessment. Her opponent was a dog-sized hedgehog-like pokémon with blue-gray spines on its back and big digging claws.

 _Duspine, the spike pokémon. A ground-type pokémon, it evolves to dusquill near level 28. This pokémon can become a serious pest, digging into and damaging the foundations of buildings, but they are often put to work to rapidly excavate tunnels._

"Maia, use bubblebeam," Matt said calmly.

"Dodge and—"

The words were barely out of Tierra's mouth when Maia hit the duspine with a flurry of bubbles that struck with gunshot pops and swept it backward across the sand. It rallied admirably, summoning stones for a rock-type attack, but the tibyss leapt on it and clamped her jaws around the duspine's head, frost crackling between her fangs.

Tierra hastily recalled her pokémon.

"Match goes to the challenger," the rhydon said. "Not bad, kid."

"Well," said Russell.

"Holy crap," said Moriko. She pointed her pokédex at Maia, which estimated her level at about forty. _Makes sense, I guess_ , she thought, needles of regret in her throat. _Should've trained, should've—_

Tierra seemed to be unable to speak for a moment, but when she did she'd regained her jovial air. "Very nice! You two really prepared for your journey. I think you'll be more at home when you get to tier three. Catch!" She tossed him his badge, which glinted in the light as it flew across the field.

Matt caught it easily in one hand. "Thanks," he said politely, and recalled Maia. He turned to join Moriko and Russell on the bleachers.

Approaching, he raised an eyebrow at Moriko and spun Maia's pokéball in his hand. "So? Still want a boost?"

 _Heck yes_ , Moriko thought, but Matt had a devilish look—maybe his regular face was that challenging, appraising expression—and she hesitated, sensing a trap. But she grabbed the ball, annoyed, before he could change his mind. Matt's eyes just flicked down, and he grinned.

"Who's next?" Tierra boomed.

"My turn," Russ called back.

Dia watched him come up and take his place with new interest, but Russ's battle probably wouldn't be as one-sided as Matt's.

"Go, Sylvia!"

"Go, Athena!"

Sylvia appeared, all long legs and drooping branches in comparison to fully-evolved Maia. Her opponent was a turfowl, another local pokémon; it had long legs like a roadrunner, and its drab feathers were offset by the bright orange plumes on its head that matched its huge, staring eyes.

 _Turfowl, the burrowing pokémon. A ground- and air-type, it evolves from earchick near level 25. It typically lives in old duspine burrows but can dig its own. It is quite shy and will often flee rather than fight, but if cornered it will put up a considerable resistance._

The air-type was a shame for Russell—it would take normal damage from Sylvia's plant-type attacks.

The turfowl and timbark circled each other for a moment before Sylvia lunged for the bird. It leapt into the air, hovering out of range of her physical attacks.

"Sylvia, use howl," said Russell.

"Peck, Athena! Go for the eyes!" said Tierra, some of her affability gone after that earlier defeat.

Sylvia put her head back, the eerie sound making Moriko's skin prickle. Sylvia whipped around and snapped at the turfowl as it passed, blocking the main attack but catching a few slashes from its claws.

"Now use razor leaf!"

"Dodge and wing attack!"

Sylvia shook herself, shedding leaves that twirled briefly, falling, before whisking toward Athena. The turfowl turned in a wide arc, dodging clouds of leaves but sustaining several smacking, slashing hits from them. It dove screeching at Sylvia and struck her hard in the side, but the timbark caught it on the rebound with her long front claws and bit it savagely.

Athena managed to escape Sylvia's attack and return to its side of the arena. The two pokémon circled each other, but the turfowl was looking tired, its graceful hover now abrupt and uneven.

"Use gust, Athena!"

"Finish it off, Sylvia!"

One last move from the turfowl: it flapped its wings, creating a miniature windstorm that kicked up sand and buffeted Sylvia, but she charged her opponent and leapt, dragging Athena to earth with her jaws around one of its wings. She whipped her head around, smashing the bird's body onto the sand, and Tierra recalled it.

"Match goes to the challenger," Dia said. "Good show, less cheap than that other guy."

Tierra barked a laugh, and again as Sylvia bounded back to her trainer and licked his face eagerly despite her injuries. "Nice work! I have Athena just for kids with a plant-type starter, but she's a little fragile and you exploited that well." She reached into a pocket and tossed Russell his badge.

"You weren't too bad yourself," he replied. "Now I know why the first gym has a tough reputation."

"Ha! I do my best here at tier one, though I do prefer when I get an S-tier challenger. Then my old friends get to party. You'd better get going, I bet your friend is itching to battle."

Moriko _was_ itching to battle, but she was caught between that desire and the fear that she was about to screw it up in front of her friend and her unpleasant traveling partner—and in front of Rufus and Tarahn, silently judging from inside their pokéballs. She headed down to the arena with anxiety knotting up her stomach.

"So, Maia or Sylvia?" Russell asked, as she approached.

"I…" Moriko weighed her choices—Sylvia knew her better, but Maia's win had been so decisive. And she hadn't been injured. "Maia. Thank you, though."

"No problem, good luck."

"Are you ready?" Tierra called, as Moriko made it to the challenger's box.

"Hope so," Moriko said.

"You're going to have your work cut out for you," said Tierra, grinning. "Six straight losses is bad enough, but seven? Not gonna happen! Go, Fell!"

Moriko smiled at the cliché trainer banter—it was straight out of the _Legendary_ games or _Kanto Quest_.

"That's what you think! Go, Maia!"

Tierra raised an eyebrow and then slapped her leg, laughing. "Oh ho! Fair enough, trading is legal. Let me guess, you chose volcalf?"

Moriko smiled nervously, realizing how impertinent it must have been to do this right in front of the gym leader in a nearly consecutive match, but she seemed to be allowing it.

Fell was a soiote, brown with chocolate socks and dark green dorsal stripes. Tarahn hated them; he had a serious type disadvantage and he'd always had to run from them. He had some dark-type attacks that would have been useful, though. Too late to go back.

 _Soiote, the coyote pokémon. A ground- and psychic-type, it evolves from dirfox near level 28. A quick and adaptable pokémon, it is found in a wide range across Gaiien and Tanos. It uses its psychic powers to confound enemies and make quick escapes._

"Trainers ready? Begin!"

Images of Fell multiplied across the arena as it used double-team without prompting.

Maia scanned the crowd of copies and exhaled an icy wind attack in a broad fan, dissipating most of them and leaving a few stragglers that scattered to opposite corners. Bored, Maia trotted after the nearest one and started firing off bubble attacks. Isolating the real soiote only took a moment, and she hit it with a strong bubblebeam—

—and it disappeared too.

Fell rocketed out of the sand under Maia and caught her hard in the belly. Moriko saw Matt stand up out of the corner of her eye; Maia got to her feet again, winded, just in time for the rock tomb to hit her with a resounding crunch.

"That's for Aisha," Fell said, wheezing a laugh.

Maia snarled and leapt, but bounced off a protect technique and staggered back on her jammed paws. She was mad now, her fins up and shuddering and her broad tail lashing.

"Let's fall back, Maia," Moriko called. "Bubblebeam from a distance!"

The tibyss ignored her and pounced again. Fell disappeared into the sand, and dust flew as she dug ineffectually, frustrated.

"Maia! Get out of there!"

Maia finally heeded the warning, and took a more glancing blow from the following dig attack. She lunged, clamping down on Fell with a crackling ice fang and shook her head, getting her teeth in.

"Confuse ray, Fell!"

A flash of purple light, and Maia dropped the soiote, staggering backward and looking around wildly. Fell was crusted with ice and bleeding, but it followed it up with a quick psychic-type attack that pushed at Maia's head and made her paws splay apart.

"You've almost got it, Maia! Use icy wind!"

The tibyss aimed the attack approximately in the direction of her opponent, but it was able to hobble out of the way, still hanging on. Maia shook her head and started toward the soiote uncertainly, and tripped again as an invisible force dragged at her paws.

Another leap, and she hit squarely—on another protect shield.

"Don't get mad," Moriko said, as much to herself as to the tibyss. "Use bubble, it's nearly done!"

Fell's luck finally ran out as Maia blindly filled the arena with bubbles, her markings glowing orange as she kept up the attack. It skittered backward, trapped as the water-type attack closed on it and burst. It collapsed, finally, its form growing indistinct and glowing as Tierra recalled it.

"Match to the challenger," the rhydon said. "Sloppy."

"Well, I saw that coming," Tierra said. "Gave you a better battle, though, didn't we?"

Maia growled a little, tired, and let Moriko recall her.

Moriko blew out a breath. "You could say that."

"Make sure to use your volcalf on the next gym, all right?" Tierra winked and tossed Moriko the Dust Badge as well—it was a stylized dust devil on a blue backing.

"Thanks for the battle," Moriko said politely. "I plan to." She raised a hand to Tierra and headed for the bleachers, where Matt and Russ were coming down the stairs.

"Sloppy is right," Matt said. "Thanks for getting my pokémon beat up."

Moriko clamped her jaw—several weak-sounding retorts collided in her mind and were about to come out totally garbled—and handed him back Maia's pokéball.

"The soiote saw the first battle from inside its ball," Russell said mildly. "It wasn't going to be a clean battle on round two." He clapped his hands together. "Tier one down, seven to go!"

"Probably just five more, this summer," Matt said, checking his pokédex. "And Moriko might even get to use her own pokémon on the next one."

"I get it, you're gonna hold that over me the whole summer?"

"Great idea," said Matt. "Anyway, let's hit the trainer stores and get ready to leave tomorrow."

* * *

Moriko went looking for Russell and found him in the shared room. He saw her coming and watched warily, his bag half-full in his hands.

"Russ," she said, a furious, sibilant whisper, "I want him gone."

"Mor…"

"He's such a shit. Please. I can't stand him."

He smiled weakly. "He's been useful, though, you can't deny it," Russ said, teasing her.

"Russ!"

Russell sighed; he looked around the dorm at the vacated beds. "He can't go alone. He's going to be stuck here for days waiting for the right group to come along."

" _Good_ , because he's a jerk, and people are rightly judging—"

"We need a third person."

"No we don't, we have the pokémon—"

"Only three pokémon without Matt. What happens when they get hurt or tired? Some of the paths are days of walking in and out, and they need to battle to keep up their strength for each tier. We need three."

"We planned for two, we planned for months—"

"Two is borderline—and look at the ranger boards, weird stuff has been happening."

She glared, but Russ nodded at her pokédex. She launched the site, and it was true: there were various seasonal advisories, but also many closed paths and yellow-condition areas, places where ronin had been spotted—including back at Seawood, after all. More than last year, she thought; they'd started talking seriously then about doing the gym circuit and had looked at the ranger and league sites obsessively.

Moriko bit her lip in frustration. "Well—then—why don't _we_ join up with a bigger group?"

"If we find people who want to," Russ said lightly. "Going the right way."

"Why _wouldn't_ they be going from the tier one gym to the tier two gym?"

Russ waved a hand.

"Well, what then? We need more people, we're good with three—?"

"I mean, if you talk to someone and they're looking"—an empty guarantee, Russ knew she wouldn't talk to anyone if she could help it—"I'm open to more people. Otherwise, let's try to get along, and we'll watch ourselves in the wilder areas."

" _He_ needs to get along!"

"I'll say something," Russ said, placating.

"Thank you," she said and stalked off.

 _Matt._ Their last-minute addition. The endless comments had her on edge; he always had something to say or to correct. It was as bad as school. This was supposed to be an escape, a reprieve, and she had brought it with her.

What had Russell been planning, if he'd always thought they'd needed more people? Well, they'd seen a fair number of other groups along the way, it would have been enough to be friendly and travel with another party in a loose formation. Too many people would be slow, but five or six could deal with someone twisting an ankle or a ronin a lot more effectively.

She was angry with Prof. Willow, too, who'd roped them into this. Well, maybe she didn't know. Matt had seemed fine at first; maybe he thought the endless sniping and interrogation was chummy or something. He should have gone with Angela and them, he'd fit in.

Angela and them—ugh, there was another thing to be bothered about. They had those small bags, so they must have one of those new storage devices, ones that could hold anything as energy: food, clothing, bicycles, whatever you needed up to a certain weight.

Of course her aunt and uncle would do that, they'd try to swipe her pennies—she thought of that phone call from the bank again and felt sick—and when that didn't work, turn around and fund her cousin's gym circuit so it was more comfortable and more successful than hers.

She bit her knuckles. It didn't matter. She'd worked for this, she'd done everything she could, she'd gotten her first badge, she'd get the second one cleanly without games. It was going to work; it was what she'd wanted for so long. And when the summer was over… well, she'd figure it out.

It sounded like Angela's group was a couple days ahead now, skipping the first regional park. With luck she wouldn't even have to see them again.

* * *

Tarahn's pokéball bounced and released him, and he twitched his tail. "All right, that gym battle is over with, so—"

He squeaked as Moriko hugged him and planted exaggerated kisses above his eyes, and he pretended to struggle and hit her with his pawpads.

"Who's ready to fight? Who's ready? Is it you?"

The raigar wriggled happily as Moriko scratched his head and behind his ears. "Noooooo, I'm a lazy boy," he groaned.

He leapt to his feet as soon as Moriko let Rufus out to give him the same treatment, scratching where his metal plates met skin and in the small spaces around his eyes. Tarahn pretended to sharpen his claws on the burnox's armor, who blew a cloud of smoke in his face.

Tarahn sneezed. "Okay okay, where are we going?"

"Let's look for our first victim," Moriko said, clapping her hands together.

A couple of trainers in town accepted a battle, and soon Rufus had traded a couple of flame charges with a zebstrika, an electric zebra pokémon from Unova. Tarahn tried to face his fear of a dirfox, soiote's previous evolution, and he managed to get a few good hits in with dark-type attacks although the fur was standing up on his back the whole time.

 _Dirfox, the kit pokémon. A ground- and psychic-type, it evolves to soiote near level 28. A shy pokémon, it spends a great deal of time in its burrow and uses confusion-causing attacks and illusions to fool enemies._

After a heal at the pokémon center they went walking outside the village, checking for wild pokémon. Tarahn fought a similarly-leveled warhare long enough that Moriko had a pokéball ready in her hand, but it too finally fled, diving into a nearly invisible burrow. She got down to inspect it while Tarahn sniffed around and sent a thunder wave down another entrance, but it looked like the warhare was long gone. Moriko vowed to only run on the path, you could break your leg putting a foot down in a hole like that.

 _Warhare, the hare pokémon. A normal-type, it evolves from clawbit near level 20 and to wartinger near level 32. They use their broad claws to dig burrows and fight enemies. Wild warhare have dull claws, but they take on a razor edge with a trainer._

Her good mood evaporated as she returned to town, seeing Matt outside the pokémon center. He waved to her cheerily and she intended to keep walking.

"Moriko! I brought you a doughnut!"

 _God dammit._

Matt held it out, its chocolate icing glistening in the sun. It was transporting; there was surely an angelic choir of light-type pokémon singing its praises.

"Thanks," she said politely, accepting the pastry. Cream-filled. _You can't buy me with this, buddy._

Well, she could be civil, if he was. _If_ _he_ was.

"Good job today in the gym," Matt said. He reached behind him and scratched his ursaring's shoulder, who was noisily licking honey out of a condiment packet. "You struggled but you did it, with an unfamiliar pokémon."

"Thanks!" she said, surprised. "I took Rufus and Tarahn out training. I'll keep it up so we'll be caught up for the next gym," she added, a little defensively.

Matt nodded. "Be careful looking around here for pokémon, the gym leader uses a lot of local ground-types and she probably releases them once they're too high level for her gym. These low-level gyms can be real revolving doors."

"I wish, that would be convenient to pick up a gym leader's old pokémon."

"Probably less than you think. Training a traded pokémon, as it were, has its own problems. Pokémon that think they're smarter than you, or compare you to their last trainer constantly or both. Doubly so when they used to belong to a gym leader. Actually, you have to consider—"

Moriko smiled, resigned. Well, this was the price of a doughnut.

* * *

 **A/N:** As always, thanks for reading! There's a new pokédex entry up on my tumblr, **gaiienpokedex** , for the Clawbit family.


	5. Killer Pokémon

Chapter 4

 _Egg / Running From the Storm / Songs for Rain / Songs for Darkness / Songs for the Road / Killer Pokémon_

 _–_ _June 20_ _th_ _-25_ _th_ _128 CR_

In the morning the air was fresh and clear, with the prairie grass beyond the town waving and the wind running races along its surface. The three of them set out from Umber Village, taking a bus to the next regional park at Canyon Creek. They were let off at a rest area above the park, past a bridge spanning a deep gorge with water glittering far below. A long path descended to a forested area closer to the level of the stream, which slowed and broadened past the gorge.

Near to the bus stop was a gathering; it was audible a long way off, amplified music booming across the prairie. A turn off the main road led to a flattened and graded dirt hill with a stage and farmer's market-type stands arranged in two loose rows, with groundcars and wheeled trucks parked off to the sides. There was a small crowd among the stands, mostly parents and kids dressed for outdoor work and a few pokémon.

Russ approached a woman selling homemade food out of a covered stall. "What's all this? A fair?"

She laughed. "There's some bad weather coming in, and we're having a little get-together before it breaks. We have a local association to deal with storms."

"Oh? How does that work?" Russ drew out his pokédex and exchanged some money with the seller with a beep.

"The pokémon do a certain technique all together and they draw energy out of the storm, and stop it from getting too severe," she explained as she put sandwiches and lemonade in a bag for him. "It's nice for us to visit and gossip while we're waiting."

"How soon will the storm get here?"

"Probably less than an hour, but you can ask the radar guy down at the end," she said, pointing, and there was a stall with an antenna down at the end of the row.

"Thanks!"

Russ split up the food: they each had a sandwich and a drink, and Matt briefly tried to refuse it. They did the little polite no-I-couldn't-oh-but-I-insist dance, but finally the three of them were eating and walking among the stalls. There were other people with food for sale: samosas, empanadas, cookies and brownies, a huge soup boil on a portable stove, and other goods like soaps, tooled leather, old-Earth antiques, and other crafts.

The radar guy had a computer displaying satellite weather data and wanted to tell them about inflow boundaries and loops, but Moriko couldn't follow it until he started talking about the pokémon.

"Tempest can create a short-term weather-like effect, but it's not actually connected to the greater environment," he said. "However, when lots of pokémon use tempest together, and feed the effect through a master, they can counter the storm, absorbing its energy and lessening its impact."

"Really? Pokémon can do that? Does it help them in some way?" Moriko asked.

"It's a huge amount of energy but we coordinate with other groups around the prairie, and it can save millions of yen by downgrading the storm. It still happens, but it's the difference between ruined crops and salvageable ones, right?"

"It makes us stronger, too," his voltorb buzzed from its spot beneath the table.

Moriko thought of Tarahn. "Is it electric pokémon only?"

The radar guy scratched under his ball cap, looking up the row of stalls. "Lucio is the master pokémon this go-around, so it will be easiest for an inexperienced electric-type to join in. The storm is actually mainly air- and water-type energy alongside the lightning, so those types will gain the benefit directly. Other types can take it up as well. I don't know the exact details; it will make them tired to process the energy if they aren't the right type, but that makes them stronger too. Newbies can go in one of the outer rings."

"By the way," Russ asked, "do you know them? What are they doing?" He pointed to another stall that seemed to be getting interest, but people were walking away empty-handed.

"Hmm? Oh, the Ahmadi family's kids are auditioning trainers and pokémon," the radar guy said. "They have some kind of special egg that won't hatch."

That stall had a young teenage girl and two pokémon, a nimbval and a grimass. Russ introduced himself.

 _Nimbval, the noble pokémon. A light-type, it features prominently in mythology as a herald of good fortune. It has a heroic nature but is easily bamboozled. It can hybridize with the dark-type grimass to produce celestiule offspring._

 _Grimass, the nightmare pokémon. A dark-type, it has a frightening appearance and a bad reputation. In mythology, it was born from the vengeful spirit of a mistreated animal. It can hybridize with the light-type nimbval to produce celestiule offspring._

"I'm Blue Steel," said the nimbval, "and this is my associate Trashmouth."

"Sup," said the grimass.

The nimbval was heavy and muscular, pure white—a white that hurt the eyes, a white that should be off somewhere shilling laundry detergent—with a blue mane and tail, and scattered star-shaped markings. The grimass was carbon black, as if burnt, and it had a dragonish look with its hairless hide and a long un-equine mouth. It was tailless, with dark purple spikes on its neck.

The teenage girl was wearing a headscarf, a long-sleeved linen shirt, and overalls. She was holding a gray, watermelon-sized ovoid—a pokémon egg.

"Hey, I'm Nasrin," she said. "Are you guys trainers?"

Moriko nodded. "We're from Port Littoral. Do you live out here? Where do you go to school?"

"Yup, we have a farm and I go to school in Passe-du-Nid, which is over that way somewhere," she said, gesturing.

"It's actually to the west," Blue Steel put in.

" _Anyway,_ it's a long bus ride, so it's half distance learning and half in-class sessions. How do you like pokémon training so far?"

"It's different than I thought, so far, but I guess we just got started. Do the pokémon help with… ploughing, or whatever?"

Nasrin laughed. "No! They just stand around looking pretty."

"Damn straight," Trashmouth said, and showed his teeth.

"We keep watch over the domestic animals," Blue Steel said sternly. "I can kick a coyote inside-out. They're quite safe from predators."

"As long as you're alert and not fighting amongst yourselves," Nasrin retorted, but she patted the nimbval's neck. "Our farm is mostly automated, it's just a matter of chasing down the autocombines and autoplanters when something goes wrong or needs to be patched. Plenty of time for schoolwork," she added dismally.

"Whose egg is it?" Matt asked, passing his pokédex over the egg.

"Stella's," said Trashmouth, a little shortly, as if they should have known this already.

"Who's Stella?"

"She was the matriarch, a celestiule," Nasrin said. "This is her last egg. She passed away during the spring and went back to the earth. She wanted us to give it to traveling trainers, but we didn't, and it's long overdue for hatching, so now we're trying to carry out her wishes properly."

"You better do it Stella's way, even now," Blue Steel said, ruefully.

"The whole prairie turned up for the funeral," Trashmouth said. "Payin' respects, but also to make sure she was really dead, like."

"How do you decide who to give it to?" Russ asked.

"Whosoever is worthy," Blue Steel said. "Light-types are good judges of character."

"And dark-types are good judges of _bad_ character," the grimass added, snickering.

Matt watched the egg, which was a gentle, cloudy gray with a subtle pattern. "Why, though? Why give it to a trainer? Shouldn't it hatch and then decide where to go?"

Nasrin shrugged. "Stella traveled through Gaiien and Tanos a long time ago with her old trainer—it was before the third crossing, when it was all temples and filling up your shrine-book instead of badges. She knew a lot. Maybe she wanted that same experience for her egg."

"She knew all kinds of strange techniques and dirty tricks," Trashmouth said wistfully. "Even some she couldn't quite teach us, but someone out there was able to teach her."

"She kept us safe," Nasrin said. "It was her idea, to drain thunderstorms. They do it all the time in Tanos, she said." She nodded toward the stage, where electric- and air-types and their trainers were gathering, farmers and rangers and workers still in their jumpsuits, down from the power plants.

"She was scary sometimes, though," said Blue Steel. "She'd say stuff that would make my hair stand on end, like 'What was paid for in blood must never be forgotten, or we will bleed anew, buying it.' Whew!"

"She sounds amazing," said Russell. "I wish we could have met."

"What's special about _this_ egg? She had others?" Matt asked.

"She sired many others, our parents included," Blue Steel said, indicating himself and Trashmouth, "but this was the only one that she herself had."

That happened sometimes with pokémon with a high standing based on their own power: having an egg drained it, so they had to be quite secure or unworried about rivals to have an egg themselves. Being the minor parent was less of a commitment of energy, though it seemed the celestiule contributed time and affection, judging by her grandchildren's regard for her.

"Well, what's your verdict? Who among us is worthy of the egg, if at all?" Matt asked.

Trashmouth extended his head and clicked his teeth in Matt's face. "You're cruel and she's angry, but red-hair would do."

Moriko blushed, dismayed that she was judged unfit to care for a young pokémon, but she'd be the first to agree that Russ was the best choice, and he only had one pokémon so far as well. Matt looked like he had an argument forming and then shrugged.

Nasrin nodded. "Put your hands on the egg," she said to Russell. She held it out, and Russ put his hands on it below her supporting ones.

A radiance came into Russell's face, and Moriko looked at him, surprised, and at Nasrin, and saw the same thing; their expressions softened, like they were looking at some sublime work of art or some precious treasure.

Nasrin released her hands and let Russell draw the egg to his chest and cradle it.

"Whew!" she said. "That was pretty clear," and she wiped at her eyes a little with one hand.

Russ cleared his throat and sniffed a few times. "Wow," he said finally.

Moriko looked from face to face. "What was...?"

They gabbled for a few minutes about lights in the sky and rolling fields before they finally seemed to get a hold of themselves, the odd radiance leaving them.

"Sorry, that sounded crazy," Nasrin said. She ran her hands over her scarf and exhaled loudly.

"I saw something... it was like a dream, and you could wake up and tell someone all the details, but it still wouldn't feel like what you felt," Russell said, and the girl nodded along.

They exchanged contact information with Nasrin so she could check up on the egg, and they chatted more about how the automation on the farm worked and the crops and animals. Eventually the wind changed, whirling by in fitful gusts, and the storm slowly rolled over the horizon, stealing daylight.

They approached the stage as the mixed group of trainers and their pokémon started to take their places, and Moriko got permission for Tarahn to join the circle. There was another raigar there and a sparkat, and he touched noses with them before a senior-looking luxray directed him toward a place between a silteel and a wartinger.

The pokémon arranged themselves into circles, and trotted along in concentric rings, clockwise and counter- and clockwise again, and as the storm approached and spattered them with rain and gusts of wind, they sped up, the many-colored bodies of the pokémon twirling and whirling. Moriko's skin prickled into goosebumps and not just from the chill wind; there was something, something huge being drawn into the center of that circle, and Tarahn looked ecstatic as he passed around and around in the ring.

Cars and the folded-up stalls and stands creaked in the wind and the rain came down heavy; lightning lanced overhead and thunder rolled closer and closer. And the center of the circle erupted in light that blinded and left flashing afterimages, and the thunder left them all with ringing ears. Somehow the pokémon were all right, though they all crackled with energy and Tarahn couldn't stop bouncing around for hours afterward.

x.x.x.x.x

Maia moved like a sheet of oil, dark and silent, her fins folded and her bio-lights dimmed, and she crept toward the wartinger washing its ears on the other side of the tree.

She pounced, the wartinger shrieking as her jaws clamped on its wing, followed by a burst of ice crystals. Her opponent flapped its wings furiously and kicked twice in rapid succession; Maia groaned and sidestepped, gaining distance, but the normal-type shot upward and away into the air over the treetops.

Moriko stomped out of hiding. "Oh, come on! This is stupid! I'm sick of this."

"I lost that pokémon, why are _you_ mad?" Matt said over his shoulder.

He sprayed a bit of potion on the clawmarks on Maia's chest, but the tibyss hadn't been badly hurt despite the type matchup. Moriko opened her pokédex, checking the radar for wild pokémon, but it was as empty as ever.

"I'm going to sue _Digital Monsters_ for false advertising," Russ murmured. He hadn't bothered to get up; he was stretched out and lying on Sylvia, who was snoozing in the shade, her claws twitching as she dreamed. "You had to fight off wild pokémon with literal sticks in the _Legendary_ series. They'd overwhelm your team if you spent too much time outside of a town, and you had to repel them. I wonder what 'repel' is, anyway?"

"It's pee," Moriko said, quoting a meme. "It's always pee."

"Well, we can get some plastic bottles and give it a try I guess."

"Gross," Matt said.

They'd camped at Canyon Creek for a few days, with some initial promising encounters, but now it was the same story: the pokémon were skittish, appearing only briefly, and didn't want to join them. It was infuriating, but they at least were in company: they headed back to the campsite office for healing after training against each other, and commiserated with the other frustrated trainers there.

The office wi-fi was at a standstill as people were loading up the regional pokémon ranger website and firing off comments of various degrees of fury and/or literacy toward the organization. _Now_ the site indicated that a ronin had been tracked passing through, too late. The ire was understandable: the bus cost money, and they all depended on ranger alerts to judge if it was going to be safe or productive to visit.

Moriko flicked away the internet app window. "What pokémon is this? Why haven't the rangers captured or relocated it?"

"Not all ronin are dangerous," Matt explained, although it sounded a bit like he was trying to convince himself too. "Sometimes they're just wanderers, maybe even an itinerant legendary. But it's wise to be wary, and wild pokémon have a lot to lose if attacked."

"Are you sure?" Russ asked. "On the news it's always 'dangerous ronin pokémon apprehended'."

"People use the terms interchangeably," Matt said with a grimace, as if this were a grave offense. "It's _supposed_ to be an intersecting set: not all ronin are killer pokémon, but most killer pokémon are ronin."

"I always wondered what makes them wander.."

"Killer pokémon? They're chased out of their groups for the murder, and then they wander alone, killing, until they're a big enough problem for rangers to notice and take them down. They're rare."

"But regular lone pokémon—I'm surprised that they can make wild pokémon hide out too, they must be in a vulnerable position all alone."

"Yeah. So they don't leave unless they can make it."

Russ nodded. "Well, what's next, do we keep waiting here? I guess the pokémon will come out again eventually."

Matt drummed his fingers on the picnic table. "Let's just keep going. I want to get to the next gym. The wild pokémon are higher population closer to the mountains, and more varieties."

"Sounds good to me," Russ said. "Moriko?"

"Alright."

The next day they packed up and headed to the bus stop at the park entrance, but kept going, out into the unincorporated land between parks. They followed dirt roads and tractor tracks between fields and saw no people, just the weeding and sampling robots moving quietly through the waving stalks of wheat and canola. The sky seemed to go on forever, with fluffy white clouds dotting its surface and towering cumulus in the distance. They saw a few dark shapes hovering that could have been buzzurgh or murkrow, or just hawks high up on the thermals.

The storm took them by surprise on the flats, blowing up fast with scarcely a warning and ferocious straight-line winds that caught at their clothes and almost knocked them over. It was night-dark within minutes, lit by blinding, strobing lightning that turned the world into a game with a bad framerate. They started looking for a valley, a gully, somewhere to get down low—they had passed long-abandoned sod dwellings before—and then wind took on an ominous tone, lashing their legs and threatening to soak through their gear.

Matt started running, a silent, desperate run, and they called to him over the thunder and could hardly see him through the driving rain.

"Where is he going? Let him go!" was Moriko's opinion, shouted over the roar of the wind, and trying to match Matt's furious pace and Russell's long strides stole what was left of her breath. The prairie grass was wet and clinging, grasping at her soaked legs and boots.

Matt fell and they caught up with him. He slapped Russell's hands away as he tried to help him stand up, and ran off again.

"Let's leave him!" Moriko shouted again, but Russ followed him, and shortly they were scrabbling up a slope. "We need to stay low!"

At the top of the hill, stone walls loomed out of the dark, lit white by lightning. They followed Matt into a building, where he threw himself onto the ground, shaking and shaking. Maia came out of her pokéball and looked at them and at him, and finally she curled up around him and stared, as if daring them to say something.

Russell looked up at the roof and walls: stone and timber, not concrete and poly-composite, and half-collapsed. "I don't know if this is any better," he said around the thunder. "This could come down on us."

"Who's there?"

A bobbing light and a voice revealed a hole in the floor; a girl in camping gear raised a lantern and looked at them.

"Oh! Trainers!" she called back down the hole. "How bad is it out there?" she asked them.

"We saw everything except an actual tornado, I hope," Russ said, and they all listened for a moment at that, but it wasn't clear if there was any especial roaring of the wind over the thunder and rain.

Another woman came up the stairs with a light. "Oh saints, you all must be drenched—why don't you all come down here with us?"

"Thanks! I'm Russ, and this is Moriko, and… Matt."

"I'm Professor Hickory. We've got fire pokémon and hand warmers down below. What's wrong with him?"

"He took a bit of a funny turn when the storm started," Russ explained. "He found this place, though," he added, more than half to Moriko, she thought.

Matt kept shivering in huge compulsive bursts, and Maia growled quietly as they approached.

"Maia, let's get him somewhere warm and dry, okay?" Russ said to her, gentle, and her ruff went down a little.

"He's… hard to move like this," she confided.

They hoisted Matt by his armpits as he struggled and managed to get him over Maia's shoulders. She carried him down the stairwell, which opened into a hallway. It stretched into the dark in either direction, with strung-up low-power lamps illuminating a few nearby chambers. Two students peered out the doorway of a room with cots and a battery stove set up.

Professor Hickory led them to another room, empty and dry. Moriko released Rufus and asked him to go sit by Matt and keep him warm, and Maia inclined her head at him graciously. They unloaded their bags and got out towels for themselves and Matt, and rigged up a clothesline for the wettest items.

Luckily their bags' waterproofing had worked aside from a little dampness driven into the gaps. Russ and Moriko changed quickly into spare clothing, but Matt ignored them. He recovered enough to swear at them for trying to touch him again so they left him to Maia.

The professor and grad students were heating up hot drinks for them. The powder hot chocolate offered was objectively not great, but at that moment it seemed gloriously warm and soothing. An arcanine was out, radiating heat, and Moriko wanted to put her freezing hands in its fluffy white ruff.

"I'll let you know the wi-fi password," Professor Hickory said, and shortly their pokédexes were connected and showing angry red severe weather warnings.

"Now you tell us," Moriko said, scolding the device and flicking away the app.

"Did you not get an alert for that one?"

Moriko shook her head. "Reception is really spotty, we got the forecast for today with evening thundershowers, but, I mean…"

"Not expecting that… or that," Russell said, nodding at the other room.

Prof. Hickory pressed her lips together, looking half worried and half amused. "He was an addition to your group? Another traveling trainer?"

"Yeah, he joined with us in Littoral."

"Is that where you all are from?"

"Yeah, Moriko and I grew up there."

"Well, not every group works out," the professor said evenly.

"What are you guys doing here?" Russ asked.

The professor sat on the edge of a cot, stretching out her legs, happy to be on more familiar ground. "You might not have been able to see it, running up, but this is an old second-crossing village—just this, the stone main building is left, and a little of the foundations of the nicer homes. And you saw up top, a lot of it is fallen down, but these underground rooms are in good shape, and have protected all kinds of carvings and records."

"Oh, really? What kinds of things?"

"This was the hub for a number of farms surrounding—there was water here, deep wells probably located and dug by pokémon, and there still is a little. They were prosperous, and they had rock-type adepts to raise a few stone buildings, and to add—probably religious—carvings to the stonework. But they left, and they didn't leave much behind. We love garbage in archeology, it tells us so much, but they didn't leave any treasures this time—it was an orderly evacuation."

"The real treasure was the friends we made along the way, Dr. B," one of the grad students said piously.

"The real treasure was hot, greasy fast food when we finally get out of here," another said from his cot.

A third: "The real treasure was shut up."

"So why did they leave?" Moriko looked around the dim stone rooms.

"The climate changed," Prof. Hickory said, "and storms started to come too often, and yet paradoxically it was frequently dry. _We_ can farm here, but that's with machines and satellite weather and insurance and public aid, not all alone on a homestead with some family and pokémon. They probably moved back to the coast—you know how productive the water is on the east coast, if you've ever been fishing or clam digging, and further north is even better."

"Why farm, then?"

"The coastal gathering does cap the size of your community—it can be lonely, and not enough people together to work against raiding, or to support adepts to warn against ancient pokémon. Most of _them_ come from the sea, of course. Closer to Porphyry was another option, it's wetter, and of course that was the old capital."

"It seems like you know a lot already."

"Oh, there's always new things to find. This summer we're trying to get a complete survey of the ruins done and to turn up more evidence regarding how the people here lived, before it gets battered into the dirt by a twister." Prof. Hickory gestured up at the ceiling. "Rock-type pokémon have been at it, too; no one to replace the stone now."

"Thank you very much for taking care of us," Russ said politely, sipping his hot chocolate. "I think we'd be all soaked and freezing in a ditch somewhere if not for this."

"Anytime. You all can settle down and have a little dinner with us before lights-out."

Russ teased out a few more details from the professor and her grad students over dinner: Avinav was doing a PhD identifying pokémon energetic residues in the construction of the town and its irrigation system; Jill was a genetics masters student working with human remains, and it was her arcanine Eddie keeping them warm, who had a killer routine in contests; Karine kept their tech working and was working on a complementary hypothesis about the region being devastated by plague as well as climate change.

Moriko definitely understood most of the words, and the students tended to lapse into jargon that the professor would clarify after a few baffling sentences.

Later they had canned soup, and the hot vegetable broth with thick chunks of potato and carrot was an incredible comfort. Moriko listened to the team's bickering, but it was a performance and totally without rancour.

Prof. Hickory ventured outside while they were all working on fruit cups and announced that it had stopped raining, and everyone better go outside and play and not come back until dark. This was the signal for the students to retreat to various places around the ruins.

Everything was fresh and cool in the aftermath of the storm, with songbirds taking up their calls again. It was breezy, with scudding clouds far above. Rufus went out, clattering up the stone stairs, and played with the higher level arcanine; they wrestled briefly and then practiced fire attacks, their breath burning yellow and red and blue as the sun set.

Russ was an instant favorite as he pulled out that now slightly battered bag of marshmallows, and the grad students set up a fire above ground in short order with the fire-types' help. Karine pulled out a flute and played a few haunting tunes that made them draw closer to the fire with the night pressing in all around them, and then broke the spell by shifting to imitations of pop songs and opening credits themes.

Eventually Russ suggested they check on Matt, and Moriko went with him regretfully, but also dying to hear what the hell had been going on with him.

Someone had cajoled or threatened Matt into moving into the room they'd been in with the battery stove. He looked better, mostly dry, and he'd stopped shivering; Maia was circled around him protectively, but it wasn't quite the desperate defense it had been in the rain.

Moriko lingered by the doorway while Russ went up to Matt carefully and inquired after his condition.

"Better," Matt grunted, working on a mug of soup.

Russ talked to him for a while, telling him some of the stories the grad students had shared about the area, and Matt slowly relaxed, although he glanced over at Moriko, casually browsing on her pokédex, more than once.

"So…" Russ said eventually, "That was quite a run you made here. What was that about? Scared of thunder?"

Matt's face worked. "I… it was hard for me to leave home, for… a lot of reasons," he said, eyes averted, petting Maia. "That storm was dangerous, and so I… I had to run."

Russ nodded, as if this was a normal statement. "It would have been nice if you'd said so. We'd have helped."

Matt's mouth opened and closed, and finally he shrugged. "It is what it is."

Moriko walked off. No apologies there. Well, he did find Prof. Hickory, which had done them a real service—otherwise they'd be crouching under an overhang in a gully somewhere, soaked and cold. She sighed.

She saw a light down the corridor and followed it to a terminal chamber in the basement, where the professor was sitting in a circle of equipment, staring at the wall.

"Prof. Hickory?" she called, approaching.

The professor waved her forward. "—Moriko, was it? Have a seat, anywhere but the spectrophotometer."

"What are you looking at?"

"There's some evidence that this was a chamber where religious rites were performed, and on the walls are devotionals or records or both."

"Can you translate them?"

"Some—this one seems to be a hymn," Prof. Hickory said. She shone a light on the carved symbols. "It begins with what we are pretty sure are the usual invocations to the gods, although the carved system is different from the pen-and-ink ones still used today by the people of the second crossing, and separated by hundreds of years besides. And then the prayer, using alliteration and repetition to strengthen its effect."

"What does it say?"

"Currently I'm thinking it's an adept's prayer—the old pokémon adepts, before pokéballs. Not everyone could have a pokémon team in those days; most people just had one partner, and they worked hard alongside their humans to survive. An adept could have several pokémon, high-level ones that could levitate stone or make the best steel or divert rivers. But they were feared, too—they had a lot of power, and they misused it at times."

Moriko thought of the dramas she'd seen, stories about the early days of the second crossing and the desperate struggle to survive in a pristine land filled with monsters. She thought of those long-ago adepts and their first urgent experiments with bonding with pokémon, and their invocations to the gods they'd left behind and to any that might yet be listening. _Help us, help us, help us._

"This part says something like 'let them be strong, let them be swift'."

Moriko smiled. "Do you think it still works? I'll take any help on this journey."

Prof. Hickory laughed. "It's worth a try—why don't I send you the translated lines when I'm done?"

x.x.x.x.x

In the morning, Matt was recovered and they departed, thanking Prof. Hickory and her students for their help.

They found the next bus stop, a relief after that strange detour: it had a fueling station and a tiny pokémon center hut where they could heal and pick up a packaged lunch each. They were on time for the morning bus, and soon they were heading northwest to Tsugaru-koen, the next Regional Park.

The road was straight for several hours and then began to weave between hills, passing dark forest in the valleys. There were only a few pines among the birches, but the ratio shifted as they drew closer to the foothills and the Spine of Gaiien loomed higher and higher in the distance. Soon they were close indeed, with dark evergreens all around and the mountains standing high and gray, wreathed in forest with rock falls and waterfalls on their sharp, flat faces.

They were let off the bus with another wave of campers, following the now-familiar routine, and went off to find their campsite.

Tsugaru-koen wound through the woods and clearcut areas, and as they went on it grew wet and marshy. The watermeadows lurked beyond the path, with rotting plants under the murk covered in bright reeds and waterweeds. Their pokédexes reported a good selection of wild pokémon sighted in the area, with smaller, darker forest clawbit and dirfox, pilosite and its evolutions, and forest-dwellers like margue, springbuck, and murkrow.

They set out looking for pokémon with plenty of pokéballs and remedies. Things hadn't worked out before, but Moriko was certain her luck was about to change.

x.x.x.x.x

They found a trainer on the road.

They saw him on the ground; they saw white chips of bone; they saw split skin and ruined clothes.

They saw the blood. There was a lot of it.

Moriko thought, dazedly, about first aid.

Something had eaten his _heart_.

Matt sent an alarm message on his pokédex and watched his connection tick between one and zero bars, hoping the bytes were getting through.

There was nothing to do but wait, and listen to the flies buzzing around. The world felt glassy, wheeling, like it was a bowl hanging in the air and about to fall at any moment. Russ was off being sick somewhere.

The rangers came, flying in on a pidgeot and a golurk; their red and orange uniforms looked washed-out compared to the crimson ruin of the trainer's body.

They were asked to wait nearby, to give their statements, and a jynx and a malamar heard their accounts. Psychic-types could judge veracity, and even interrogate memory, but the latter was forbidden; if you could get in to read someone's mind you could plant ideas or memories too.

The rangers scanned their pokédexes and trainer IDs. There were ways to spoof your identity, especially in the field, but they seemed to be satisfied for now.

"Where are his pokémon?" Matt asked quietly.

One of the rangers looked at him a moment and then pointed his pokédex at the trainer belt on the body: two of the pokémon were fainted, and one was at half health. No daring defense by the pokémon against a sneak attack like in the movies, against—whatever, whoever had attacked him.

And it looked like a pokémon, from the huge wounds and the gouges in the earth, but the rangers' energy residual scanning would tell more. One ranger took them aside and asked to see their pokémon one by one and scanned them.

"Is it safe to stay here?" Russ asked, still weak, still wobbling.

The ranger looked at their campsite tag and shook her head. "Come with us, we'll put everyone close together for tonight."

The rangers cordoned off the scene, and one accompanied the three of them back toward the campsite office. More rangers were arriving; large flying pokémon passed over, and they heard the dull hum of jumpcraft engines.

Trainers and campers were milling around the office, talking in pairs or small groups, while several pokémon rangers were speaking with the campsite staff. They seemed to be discussing the logistics of making everyone camp together, or at a few nearby sites, or just putting everyone on a bus to Verdure Town right now.

Eventually a more senior-looking ranger got up on her rhyperior's shoulders and called for quiet.

"I'm Ranger-Captain Grouse," she said. "Let me make things clear: a dead pokémon trainer has been found in the park. To minimize potential danger we ask that you remain in large groups with healthy pokémon. My ranger teams will keep watch overnight. We're having buses sent up from Verdure to take you all there tomorrow. Questions?"

Shouted questions, ramping up in volume as people struggled to get a word in, and the Ranger-Captain pointed to someone only to have five start talking at once.

"One at a time!" an exploud roared; it had a touch of the attack in it, and a couple people subsided with squeaks.

"Who did it?" someone yelled.

"It's not certain at this time. Please report any unusual human activity or pokédex pings to myself or any of my team. We will be making a record of every trainer and caught pokémon in the park."

Someone else: "Shouldn't we leave now?"

"We have judged that it will be safer for everyone to remain in place tonight in a location with amenities than to try to make a dangerous overnight journey to a rest stop. Let me reiterate: you are much safer in groups right now."

"When is the park going to re-open?"

"I can't say. Certainly not for at least a week."

"Come on! I had paid time off for this!" an adult trainer shouted, but fell silent under a humorless look from the malamar.

"We can definitely provide ranger and police reports for this incident—"

Moriko looked at Russ, who still looked pale and haggard, and she was sure she didn't look much better. "We're leaving."

"As soon as possible," he agreed.

There wouldn't be any pokémon to train with or capture here for a while, anyway: if the pokémon in the previous parks had been skittish at a ronin passing through, they'd be hunkered down for days at this actual kill.

A couple of rangers and their pokémon led half of them to one campsite while some of the other trainers talked, excited, like it was just a summer camp outing. Someone described the crime scene, clearly making it up out of whole cloth, but Moriko bit down on the urge to correct them—gods, she'd be mobbed if she spoke up. She glanced at Matt, sidelong, but he was staring at the ground, face pale and lips pinched.

The spacious site was cramped with this many people here, arranged in a loose circle around the fire pit. People would be chattering until late at night, probably; no one could shut up at sleepovers. Maybe they shouldn't sleep at all, just sit up waiting in the woods for the killer to show up with a machete or threatening stick sculptures.

Matt walked faster and faster and finally threw his bag down angrily. "Stupid kid," he managed to get out from between clenched teeth, and he stalked off into the woods, leaving the two of them to set up camp.

"Don't go off alone, dude!"

Matt kicked a rock, furious, almost falling over, and Maia burst out of her pokéball to walk beside him.

Moriko watched the production. "What's _that_ about?"

Russ shrugged. He said instead, "Mor, I was thinking about what the rangers said. That kid's pokémon—he let them get too hurt. They fainted, so he couldn't keep them up with potions. He was alone. They couldn't protect him. We can't—we can't get into that situation." He scrubbed at his eyes with his hand, not looking at her.

Sylvia burst out of her pokéball and nosed him anxiously, her leafy tail swishing, a cheerful sound despite all they'd seen.

Moriko sighed and started unpacking her bag. She felt guilty: it was another, tacit denial of her desire for Matt to leave, and she felt bad for bringing it up again, if only by implication.

"Who was he fighting, anyway?" she muttered.

"Hm?"

"All the wild pokémon we've seen traded a couple attacks and then bailed. Who'd he fight until his pokémon fainted? All alone?"

Russ kept working in silence at that for a while. "Let's just keep everybody up, keep together, keep safe."

Moriko set up her tent, feeling awkward, not sure how to join the other campers getting a fire going with laughter and jovial insults and not sure if she wanted to.

She tried not to think about the trainer. Only stupid kids got hurt and died alone in the woods. Smart kids traveled together, kept up their pokémon with potions, turned around at sensible halfway points. Smart kids got to go home.

Smart kids didn't stomp off to brood in the woods with a killer on the loose.

Moriko exhaled angrily and turned on the radar mode on her pokédex. It showed the rangers' and trainers' pokémon in a bright, rainbow cluster, and pinged on Maia's aura a short distance away.

Rufus kept up a tense watch as they followed the path to Matt and Maia, pine needles and loam shifting under hooves and boots as they walked. A bird called somewhere, cheery, oblivious.

They found Matt by a small stream, staring at nothing as the tibyss stared at him in turn, and she glanced at them as they walked up.

"Come back to the group before you get fucking stabbed," Moriko said, by way of greeting.

Maia gave a low groan, not at her, but at Matt, and to her surprise he rose silently and started walking back.

Back at the campsite he disappeared into his tent without a word, and zipped it up behind him.

"You're welcome," Moriko said to the tent.

Russ smiled at her, returning from visiting with the other campers. "I was worried about him."

"So was I," Maia said quietly, her tail twitching.

They looked at her. "What's wrong with him?" Moriko asked.

Maia watched them, silently, her leonine face unreadable. She shook her head side to side slowly, a human gesture. "He needs rest."

"You can tell us," Russ said. "We can keep a secret."

"There's nothing to tell," Maia said.

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N:** I got a job! Back to intermittent fanfic writing. The illustration for Nimbval, Grimass, and Celestiule is up on my tumblr/deviantart.


	6. Adept's Prayer

Chapter 5

 _Verdure Town / Whoops / False Witness / Adept's Prayer_

 _\- June 26_ _th_ _-28_ _th_ _128 CR_

Moriko passed the night in a haze, startled at every noise, and finally the tread of boots and pokémon voices at dawn suggested they'd soon be moving out.

Despite the rush, the buses weren't ready yet. The trainers their age were actually fairly subdued, tired after a late night chatting and scaring one another around the campfire. A few of them joked, laughing too loud.

It was the adult campers that were acting out, poorly rested and uncaffeinated, herded away from a nebulous danger, weekend ruined. One guy started shouting in the face of a young ranger and the ranger-captain intervened, flanked by the rhyperior.

Moriko wanted to wander and Russ came with her. They strayed as far as they dared from the group at the pick-up point, and Russ found a dirfox crouched in a hollow under a tree. Seeing Sylvia, it yipped and split into three copies.

"Odor sleuth!"

Sylvia made a beeline for one of the copies and yanked it to the ground with a quick rootbind attack. The real dirfox lay there staring, chest heaving, and then clamped onto Sylvia's nose in a snakelike strike. She yelped, scratching it off, and it flopped onto the ground.

Russ tossed a pokéball after it, which closed with a couple of cursory wiggles.

"What did you find there?" a bisharp asked, approaching them. It was one of the rangers' pokemon, humanshape in red and black with steel blade armor.

"Hey! A wild dirfox," Russ said.

"Is that all?" The bisharp cast its gaze around as if smelling the air. "It felt like—"

Their pokédexes pinged the approach of a new wild pokémon.

"You two need to get on the bus. Now," it said.

Two rangers were running toward them with a vigoroth and a pyroar.

Moriko and Russell ran, Sylvia trailing them. Moriko felt a terrible sensation of being watched, and fear sank claws into her stomach as she imagined something chasing them. They couldn't resist looking behind them, but there was nothing to see but the wary pokémon and their trainers, and kept their eyes forward after a near-stumble in a pothole.

The rangers closer to the buses were speaking quietly and urgently into their pokédexes. Russ and Moriko running up did not go unnoticed; several of the bored trainers looked up at them and pelted them with questions, but the two of them shook their heads.

Looking back, they could see the two rangers in bright orange and the pokemon against the green and dappled shadow of the scenery, but they seemed to be still, waiting.

They all jumped at the sound of tires crunching on the gravel as the buses approached.

The rangers herded them on at last, and they were sent off with a couple of junior rangers at the front of each bus, tense and watchful as the vehicles finally drove away and wound up the hill.

Moriko watched out the back window at the rangers left behind until they disappeared, and the bus juddered and someone yelled at her to sit down.

"See anything?" Russ asked.

"Nothing. What was—"

Russ held up his pokédex: it had detected the aura of a dark- and air-type pokémon.

"Maybe just a murkrow," he said, "but the rangers sure didn't think it was just anything."

Moriko felt cold. "There were two of us. Were we in danger?"

"I can't believe it. We were just that width of the field away from a dozen rangers."

On the highway they relaxed at last, and a couple of people groaned that there hadn't been anything to see after that brief excitement. The ride thereafter was quiet, weaving between mountains on the mostly empty highway, and more than a few people caught some missed sleep. Matt was quiet, curled up against the window; he hadn't said anything all morning.

Before long the road split into divided highway and they were pulling into Verdure Town, shops and hotels going by outside the bus windows. The townsite was nestled in a valley at the feet of Talon Peak and G67, which sounded foreboding but seemed to be fairly modest peaks without any ice on them in the summer.

At the bus station, they and the other Tsugaru-koen refugees piled off, a few grabbing large bags from storage. The rangers made them line up again, re-checking IDs.

Moriko breathed in the morning air, cool and fresh off the mountains. Despite the scare and the horror back at Tsugaru, and despite the rotten night and rattling nap snatched on the highway, she almost felt healed. Russ leaned on her companionably as they waited, and she put an arm around his waist and closed her eyes. She could pretend.

The rangers scanned their pokédexes, and a grimass and a malamar stood slightly aside, watching them. The malamar muttered something to its trainer as the three of them went through the scans.

"You guys reported the original incident?" one of the rangers asked quietly. "Please consider making an appointment with a counselor at the local clinic—that scene in the park, that was really grisly. I haven't seen something that bad in a while. Okay? And thank you for making the call. Stay safe."

They thanked him and moved on to the pokémon center.

Foot and bicycle traffic was favored inside the town, with broad tree-shaded walkways between rows of shops, many of which were done up in a rustic style with polished wood to make them look like log cabins. There were outdoor enthusiasts' clubs and trainer guilds among the shops, places where you could pay to have a guided tour of the wilderness for amusement or exercise, or to catch pokémon, and traders that would help match you with a pokémon for a fee.

Hiking and mountain biking seemed to be popular, and there were a couple of hot springs further up G67, although the word was that they weren't as nice as the ones in Russet Town, where the fourth gym was. A few of the shops seemed to have a hastily-converted winter theme and desultory summer offerings; Moriko was puzzled by the idea of going on holiday to somewhere cold, but Verdure stayed relatively temperate in the winter and could cope with snowfall. The more northerly villages and hamlets tended to see isolation and ferocious wind chase out most of the staff before the passes closed.

The restaurants were _really_ hard to pass by: they smelled delicious, with the smell of frying food, popcorn, and fudge candy spilling out of opened doors. There were plenty of street vendors as well with pad thai and churros and a dozen other items, but there would be free food at the pokémon center for trainers. Maybe a victory dinner, later…

The pokécenter was done up to look like a log cabin as well, with a hotel-like foyer with couches where trainers and budget tourists were lounging and chatting. Network coverage of a summer tournament was playing on the TV above the unlit fireplace. A few pokémon watched them as they came in; a brown-gray summer forme wintris and a shiny raigar gave them a look-over but went back to their naps.

Their pokémon in pokéballs all went in trays with the attendant for check-up healing, and Russell handed over the celestiule egg in its pokéball to a blissey who commented on it appreciatively.

After a short check-in, three of them found themselves in a shared room that, luxuriously, they had to themselves for a while, with four bunk beds and a couple of hanging plants and Gaiienese tapestries on the walls.

Moriko sat down on one of the lower bunks and instantly regretted it: she wasn't sure if she could stand up again. She managed to keep herself awake and started pulling gear out of her backpack to be washed or repaired.

The room felt… homey. Not quite a home with the row of bunks, but not a sterile hotel room with speckled industrial carpeting and paintings of vague nowheres, either. She smiled ruefully, comparing it to Port Littoral. Pros: She'd had an allowance to spend on snacks and restaurants, none of this obsessive coin-counting, and had never had to _walk_ this much. Cons: Her aunt and uncle. Angela. School.

Someday she'd have her own place. But if home was a person, not the room… it was comfortable. It felt safe despite the lack of privacy and the close quarters. Even with Matt there; he didn't get mad and scream at anyone, at least. Her eyes flicked toward Russell and away. If things were… different. _That_ was a hopeless wish, unfair and burdensome, and she pushed it away.

And still. There were little intimacies, interesting ones, like the hesitation before just turning around and changing clothes in front of each other. She peeped at little at the two of them changing into their laundry day alternates, faded old tournament t-shirts and sweatpants, but there wasn't much to see.

Matt had a row of keloid scars swiping up his side, and the stitchmark scars made them look like centipedes. She was curious, but not enough to try to engage him. Anyway, he'd mentioned that he'd spent some time in hospital, so maybe it was related to some surgery or treatment.

"So, what's the plan for today?" Russ asked.

"Are you tired? Because I am friggin' _done_ ," Moriko said. "I think I woke up every hour last night."

Russ laughed. "Me too, I was so pissed off at that drunk guy. I think someone battled him to make him shut up finally."

"I think I heard that, I started dreaming about a league battle."

"Good, rest day. Matt?"

"No objections."

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko and Russell headed to the caf for a late breakfast. Matt said he'd catch up with them.

He lay down and pulled the covers over his head, and he put his hand over his mouth and let himself sob, quietly.

 _Oh gods, gods, gods, gods_ —

This was a bad one, thought a small part of himself, not awash in despair and panic. He'd be lucky if he could leave the room tomorrow.

He should not be here; he should be in Port Littoral; he should be in Johto. _I can't_ , he thought, _I cannot be there in that house_ , and if he had stayed in Port Littoral he would have never left.

 _You fool. You had a good place there. You had a good place in Johto_ —

No no no no, not, never, never again.

Just when you thought you were fine, there were storms; just when you thought you were whole, there was blood. There was nothing but the curse, over and over.

 _Gods, gods, gods, help me, help me, help me._

x.x.x.x.x

They were watching the cafeteria waffle machine in fascination when Russell's pokédex buzzed with a message from the pokémon center.

"Russell Scott?" one of the pokémon doctors asked as he approached with Moriko. She was average height and stout with a neat haircut and a violet-hair genehan.

"That's me," he said, sliding his ID over the counter. "Is there a problem?"

"I'm Dr. Dabrowska, there's an issue with one of your pokémon. When did you catch your dirfox?"

"Just this morning, at Tsugaru-koen."

"This was its first pokémon center healing?"

"Yes." Russ was frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Let me show you."

Dr. Dabrowska led them into the employees-only area behind the pokémon center counter. It lacked the racks and racks of medical supplies of a human hospital, most issues solvable by the row of healing machines, but there were other specialized devices and a pathology lab to diagnose more mysterious afflictions. There were boxes of potion bottles and remedies, and revivifiers that pulled a fainted pokémon out of incorporeality with a burst of energy. An audino passed by, intent on an errand.

The doctor led them to a corner of the building.

"It burst out of its pokéball as soon as the healing was complete," she said, "and now it's hiding in a closet."

The dirfox was crouched in the back of the room, whining. A jigglypuff was trying to coax it to try a treat, and had laid out cat crunchies, bacon bits, candy, and even a slightly stale-looking poffin as encouragement. As soon as the dirfox saw Russell peering in, it flopped over onto its side again, trembling.

The jigglypuff inflated. "Puffing idiot—" it said, and swept up the treats and toddled off.

"I am so sorry—" Russ said, after a beat.

"It's fine," Dr. Dabrowska said smoothly, "but to avoid this in future, please be reminded to allow wild pokémon to escape battles, and to check in after capture."

"We would have, but—" Moriko protested, but Russ shook his head.

"I heard a trainer was murdered at Tsugaru-koen," Dr. Dabrowska said. "True?"

"Yes," Russ said.

"You caught the dirfox nearby?"

"Twenty or thirty minutes' walk?" He looked at Moriko for confirmation and she nodded.

"Sometimes pokémon are adversely affected by the presence of—a murderer? Killer pokémon?" the doctor said, peering at them. Pressing them for gossip?

They shook their heads.

"Either one, a death is a profound spiritual and psychic disturbance, and dirfox is a psychic-type besides. Give it a day or two. But if not, take it back to that park and release it. I'll be checking up on you two."

Russ was nodding. "Absolutely. I really appreciate you speaking with me one-on-one about this."

"No problem. Try recalling it," Dr. Dabrowska said, handing over the ball.

Russ raised the pokéball and said "Return," triggering the beam and drawing the still-motionless dirfox inside.

The pokémon doctor tilted her head, considering. "Could go either way. Good luck."

They headed back to the caf. Backtracking would be a bother. Then again, maybe someone at the pokémon center or ranger station would do it, having a vested interest in keeping pokémon in appropriate habitats and not wanting trainers to release wild pokémon willy-nilly.

It was a danger: you hoped that a pokémon that wasn't actively fleeing was open to being captured, but sometimes they did freeze up.

"Huh. They never had a situation like that in the _Legendary_ games," Moriko said.

Russ managed to smile. "Yeah, it was all bloodthirsty pokémon that would fight until fainting and killer pokémon with unexpectedly tragic death scenes. Well, this might be all right after all. We've obviously been a few steps behind _something_ this entire time, so maybe by doubling back we'll have a more normal experience." He wiped at his eyes.

"Oh no, are you okay?"

"Just feel bad for the little guy," Russ said gruffly. "He's gotta be scared."

x.x.x.x.x

They needed to catch pokémon. It was absurd now, to be at the second gym and Russ with the only maybe-successful wild capture. They asked the aide at the pokémon center counter for maps, tips, help, gossip. Who had come in with a wild pokémon lately?

Russ pressed a button and a few hundred yen were traded to the aide's account.

He took Russ's pokédex and opened the map application, adding pins around the town. "Wild springbuck caught here… warhare here… boldore… lotad… raigar. Keep in mind these are chance encounters! You might walk around all day and see nothing. Stay on the path and look for pokémon challenging _you_ , all right?" he added, giving Russ a pointed look.

That got Moriko's back up, but Russ was waving a hand, good-natured.

"Learned my lesson, believe me," he said.

The aide was about to hand back the pokédex and then developed a sly expression. "Just for fun, you should go to these coordinates," he said, dropping a couple more pins. "That's The Living Room, and this is The Carousel."

"The what?"

"You'll see. We go up there to blaze sometimes." He winked.

x.x.x.x.x

They stuck to the valley trails, waiting for pokémon to appear. The valleys were richer, more likely to have young pokémon; the easiest captures were of adolescents getting ready to leave their family groups. They were looking for a fight to test themselves, maybe a trainer to journey with and come back strong.

It was cool beneath the pine trees, the mountains' gray bones showing through the loam and needles. There was moss underfoot in the shaded areas, green and springy, and ferns, and tiny wildflowers blooming. Dragonflies swooped over the clear water that flowed swift over tumbled rocks, with the roar of waterfalls nearby.

A papiliris challenged them, the sunlight lancing off its stained-glass wings. It fled after a cautious attack from Rufus, the off-target embers winking out on the path into motes of spirit energy, harmless to matter. The streams were full of lotad and poliwag, but they were too young, their attacks having the force of play only.

"So much for that guy's advice," Moriko muttered. At midday they'd seen more birds and chipmunks than pokémon.

"It's very luck-based," Matt said. "Didn't you ever learn that animals outnumber pokémon by a factor of—"

"We'll see something eventually," Russ said. "The pokémon seem normal around here instead of horribly skittish. Can't rush it, as I've lately found out," he added, self-deprecating.

"What did the aide say at the end, that we should visit The Front Porch or whatever? What was that about?" Moriko asked.

"The Living Room and The Carousel. Should we check it out?"

Moriko nodded. "I think we're coming off too desperate. Let's go do something unrelated and a bunch of pokémon will pop up."

x.x.x.x.x

The Living Room was at higher altitude, and they were glad they weren't carrying their full bags going up the switchbacks. Sylvia had boundless energy in the forest, racing ahead and then back to them, her jagged tail wagging furiously. There was a cairn where the path diverged, and soon they were following game trails just worn enough to break through the thick underbrush.

"Keep your pokédex tracking your position," Matt advised. "This is perfect country to step off the path to pee and get hopelessly lost."

Moriko scoffed. "Come on, a few meters from the path—your pokémon could find it again."

"You hope," he said, shrugging.

"It's getting a pretty good signal up here somehow," Russ said cheerfully. "The map has the main trail to the peak lookout on the map, but not this one."

Eventually the track opened up, and on the ground amid the reaching roots was… a living room.

A sofa and two armchairs sat in the clearing, a matching set in dappled earth tones and pale wood, all facing an old television on a stand. Ferns had grown up around the chairs, and they were covered in windblown needles and leaf litter. A rabbit burst out of hiding as they approached, sprinting into the trees.

"Huh. Weird," Russ said.

Sylvia sniffed the sofa, interested.

"Anything good?" he asked the timbark.

"It's full of bugs," she said, delighted. "Can I tear it up?"

Russ laughed. "I think this is someone's art project. We can go get some garbage to destroy in town."

The TV screen had been broken or punched out, so it was just a hollow eye socket in the clearing. It was only a few centimeters deep, but it was… dark. A darkness that drew the eye, that seemed too deep for the summer day and cheerful bird calls. Moriko shifted around so that that hollow interior wasn't looking for— _at_ her.

Matt studied the tableau for a while, fascinated.

"What do you think?" Russ asked him.

"I feel like… I've seen this before." The moment spun out and he shook his head. "It's probably old pokémon center furniture. It all looks the same."

"I love it," Russ said. "It's insane. Who on earth carted this all up the mountain?"

"Where's 'The Carousel'?" Moriko asked. Anything to get away from that TV.

There was an entire fairground carousel on the mountainside.

It was polished and lacquered wood, with carved pokémon and mythical beasts on gleaming metallic poles. The rapidash had manes in translucent fiber that waved in the slightest breeze, and there was an entei that looked nearly alive, ready to leap off the platform and tear away into the trees.

Abandoned on the mountainside— _how?_ —it looked better and cleaner than the rental rides Port Littoral would trot out for summer festivals.

They looked at it for a long time. It was silent aside from the wind sighing off the mountain peak.

When Russ moved forward to touch it, Moriko and Matt blurted out "No!" in unison, and Sylvia whined. He looked back at them, grinning, and it fell off his face when he saw their expressions.

They didn't say anything until they were far away down the trail.

"I'm sorry, Russ," Moriko said.

"Nothing to be sorry about," he replied. "But… what did you…?"

"I don't… I don't know. I didn't get a good feeling up there." She hesitated. "I felt like someone was watching through the TV."

"It was a trap," Matt said, abrupt. "You see something… unfinished, in the woods, in distant places. You see something that invites completion. You sit down on the seats. You get on the ride. I don't know what happens when you do."

Russ stopped, turned on the path. He was smiling. "Come on, are you sure? Why would the aide have sent us there?"

Moriko shrugged. It seemed silly now, away from the appalling pressure of that open-air sitting room and the temptation of the carousel. "I don't think he meant anything. But… it wasn't a good place."

x.x.x.x.x

After some deliberation, they tried splitting up for one last reconnoiter. They were minutes away from the townsite with healthy pokémon, so it wouldn't be too risky for a short time.

Moriko hiked along a stream with Tarahn prancing beside her and Rufus trailing them. Not that she'd ever wish Russ away, but there was a freedom in walking alone and just listening to the sounds of the forest and your own footfalls. She stretched her arms, thinking of the interludes between pokémon appearances in _Backcountry Training_ and the quiet voice of the host pointing out tracks and signs. It was annoying not to be able to catch anything, but she could almost be at peace here. And for travel companions you could do much, much worse than Rufus and Tarahn.

"What's the plan?"

"Follow your nose, kid, and find us a third teammember," Moriko said.

Rufus tired after a while. Tarahn peered exaggeratedly into bushes at every turn, but only startled a grouse out of hiding. Eventually they came to a stream with a large, rocky beach, and sat down to have snacks and water.

Moriko sat down on her pack and stretched out her legs, staring at nothing while Tarahn purred and tried to sneak a lick of the peanut butter packet.

Suddenly the raigar whipped his head around. Moriko looked too, dropping the food, her heart racing as she grabbed for her pokédex.

"Someone's coming," Tarahn said, his ears alert.

They walked out along the bank, Tarahn striding purposefully but silently, Moriko following, her boots sliding on the dry, rounded stones. Her stomach felt like a knot as she waited for something— _air and dark?_ —to come up on the radar.

A mooskeg burst out of the trees in front of them, and they dove out of the way of the huge pokémon. Its hooves clattered on the river rock and then threw up the clear water in the stream, and it whirled on them triumphantly.

 _Mooskeg, the muskeg pokémon. A water- and plant-type, it evolves from elkampos near level 24 and to cernunnos with age or a leaf stone. Famously belligerent in defense of their calves, these pokémon have strong control over environmental energy through their nature power._

It was young, newly evolved with a thin spray of antlers, but it was still a half-ton of flesh on long, long brown legs and mottled, mossy hide above.

"Tarahn, use thunder wave—"

There was a chiming noise behind them, and Tarahn whirled, distracted, as another raigar leapt over him to face the mooskeg. It was older than Tarahn with a darker pelt, and longer and thinner in body.

"You'll regret that, pond scum!" it snarled at the cervine pokémon.

"Oh please," the mooskeg replied, and fired off a quick water gun attack at the raigar.

The raigar's eyes glowed blue as it used copycat, stolen energy coalescing into an imitated water attack, but the mooskeg shook it off, unfazed. The cougar pokémon followed up with a thunder wave, the yellow pulse of electricity doubling up as it darted forward. The mooskeg bellowed, trying to catch it under its hooves, a sound that choked off as the electricity seized its muscles. The raigar got a wild rake in that left trails of venomous clawmarks down the mooskeg's side, and it turned to blast its own wounds with water.

"Uh, use poison claw too, Tarahn?"

Tarahn darted in after the mooskeg as it whirled, a chance to attack its uninjured side—but the wild raigar tackled him angrily.

"He's mine! Who the hell are you?" it snarled.

Tarahn responded in kind, slashing at the other raigar, and in the confusion the mooskeg was hobbling away.

"Tarahn—get the mooskeg—" Moriko called, and then splashed into the water herself as the two raigar locked each other into a whirlwind of slashing paws and copycatted attacks.

She hurled a pokéball overhand at the mooskeg, who knocked it away contemptuously with its antlers.

"Ha! Nice try, trainer. Some other time," it called, summoning a swell of water to help propel it downstream, and it started running again as the paralysis wore off.

On the bank, Tarahn and the other raigar circled each other warily, red blood staining their purple coats and winking away into lightmotes where it hit the ground.

"Maybe we can make a trade," Moriko muttered. "Tarahn, use double team—"

"As if you could fool me, kitten," the other raigar growled, and leapt on him, pushing him to the ground with its greater weight while Tarahn's copies fizzled out.

It bit his ear, and he yowled in protest.

"You beetle-brain, letting him get away! Who do you think you are?"

"Who are _you_ "—Tarahn kicked the other pokémon hard in the belly, and it yelped, backing off—"copycatting ineffective moves? Do you know a _thing_ about types?"

"I know about power," it said, splitting into double-team illusions, "and I know how to use it!"

All three copies clapped their paws together, and Tarahn shuddered, forced to use double team again and again, the illusions growing thin and unsubstantial.

"Return, Tarahn," Moriko said, throwing out Rufus' pokéball in the same moment.

Rufus' mane flared as he materialized, and he exhaled a little warning burst of fire at the wild raigar, who backed off warily.

"Horn attack, Rufus."

The burnox put his head down. The wild raigar's copies turned tail, running in three different directions away into the forest.

Moriko sighed. "Better not pull a Russell here," she muttered, and shoved the unused pokéballs back into her pockets.

Rufus nudged her shoulder. "There'll be another chance," he rumbled.

"Gods, I hope so," she said. She tossed out Tarahn's pokéball again, hoping the encore effect had been broken, and patched him up with a few spritzes of potion.

x.x.x.x.x

"You used to play _Kingdoms of Thorae_?"

"Yeah, I got kind of obsessed with it. I had a large army, I was checking it and micromanaging it during school and stuff. It got to be too much. But I wrote a history for my kingdom and everything, and I had this whole elaborate backstory for my general, she was a dragon-type clan heir who—" Russ groaned. "Don't get me started. Like I said, totally stupid."

"I've heard worse," Matt said graciously. "I used to play _Age of Aren_. Lots of weird arcanine roleplayers in that game."

Russ laughed. "I think I know what you mean. That's an old game though, how did you get into it? Did you start playing when you were a kid? I hope you didn't see any private chats by accident, yikes."

"Ha, no, I wasn't scarred by people cybering until I was a teenager. I had the same problem, I got into it while I was doing homeschool and it was too easy to spend hours and hours on it. Did your parents have to cut you off or did you quit yourself?"

"Eh, a little of both. I stayed up all night during an event and then flubbed a quiz the next day. My dad said, 'Well, that's too bad, what are you going to do about it?' and I went upstairs and uninstalled the game. I kept up with a lot of the people that I played with, after, but the game was too much."

Matt nodded. "A better man than me, sir."

Russ laughed shyly. "What, did your parents drag you away kicking and screaming?"

"Heh. Something like that." Matt smiled sadly.

Their pokédexes buzzed and they held them up. The pokémon proximity app displayed an aura reading that resolved into an ID: a 3D murkrow sprite bobbed and nodded its witch-hat-crowned head.

"Jackpot. Let's go," Matt said.

They found the murkrow flock close by, and Maia made short work of the first one to come swooping in, her ice-type attack weighing down its wings so it couldn't fly. Matt caught it with a quick underhand great ball.

"Nice one!" Russ called.

Matt waved and picked up the ball while the other murkrow jeered from high up in the conifers.

"Have fun kid, maybe you'll learn how to fight!"

" _Kraw_! Bye-bye little birdie!"

Maia watched the murkrow flock, her bio-lights pulsing and bubbles growing on her open jaws as Matt exposed his back to them, but they just flapped their wings and cawed high above.

"Who's next?" Matt called up at them. "My friend needs a new pokémon too."

The murkrow responded with cheerful invective, and a few of them flew off. None hopped down to fight Russell despite some shoving up in the branches that sent needles pattering to the ground. More departed, bored.

"Looks like they're sold out," Russ said. "How are you feeling? I think I'm ready for dinner and to put my feet up at the pokécenter."

"I'm good either way, if you want to keep looking," Matt answered, but they were shortly on the trail back to Verdure Town, with Maia and Sylvia trotting beside them.

On the path they found a springbuck, cotton candy-colored with tiny, flittering wings and spiraling horns, and a wide splash of red blood on its broken leg. It started as it saw them.

 _Springbuck, the spiral horn pokémon. A fairy- and air-type, it evolves to spronghorn near level 32. They can leap high into the air and manipulate air-type energy to fly. They can be mischievous, deliberately destroying gardens and ornamental plants._

"Hey," Russ said quietly, crouching down and pulling a potion out of his backpack. "Hey now, you look like you're in some trouble. Can we help?"

The springbuck grunted, trying to stand up, but cried out as it tried to move the broken leg. Maia and Sylvia backed off, deliberately not looking at it to seem less predatory.

"Hey there, don't try to move, okay?"

"…Why haven't you fainted?" Matt asked.

It jerked its head around, trying to see into the brush above the path.

"There's danger," it gasped out.

Maia looked up the hill with some interest, her tail rippling.

"Come with us," Russ said, proffering the pokéball. "No pain in the ball, we'll heal you up, we'll send you on your way. Pinky swear."

The springbuck stared out into the forest, trembling, and finally it looked back at Russ with narrowed eyes.

"What on earth… is a pinky?"

A pokémon appeared out of the brush, green and red and humanshape. It had small eyes set in deep sockets and a broad red crest on its head, bright against the green and brown leaves that covered its body.

 _Habadryad, the pepper imp pokemon. A fairy- and fire-type. It secretes a potent, flammable oil that ignites on contact with the air. It is capricious and can turn from playful to violent in an instant._

It crouched, watching them for a moment, and then rushed forward. The springbuck groaned and scrabbled in the dirt, and Russ and Matt ran out of the way of the habadryad's chimpanzee charge.

Sylvia darted between the two pokémon and snarled, spreading her shoulder branches. The habadryad stopped short and jerked its head, spitting oil onto her. She yelped, trying to shake it off, and then whined as it ignited and burned her.

"Crunch, Sylvia!"

The timbark clamped down on the habadryad's arm and it screeched, scratching at her face with its other hand and dragging more oil over her fur. She backed off, whimpering, as she pawed at the oil and then tried to roll in the dirt to shed it.

The habadryad was poisoned, though, the bruise of the bite spreading. Russ glanced at his pokédex.

"Poison fang again, Sylvia!"

Sylvia rose, squinting, and advanced on the habadryad. It wavered, looking back and forth between the two hurt pokémon. Finally it gave up, leaping away across the path.

"Whew," Russ said, recalling Sylvia. "That was ugly."

Matt clapped him on the shoulder. "I'd have got you if it was bad."

"Hope Moriko is okay alone. So, buddy, how are you feeling?" he added, to the springbuck.

"Quite unwell," it said, trying to rise and failing again. "I will accept your assistance." It looked up at Russ. "I hope only that the cost is not too high."

"No charge," Russ replied. "Really."

x.x.x.x.x

"Are you serious?"

Moriko groaned as Russ and Matt related their capture stories.

"I saw two—two!—wild pokémon, but they were fighting each other, and turned on Tarahn when I took a side. It was weird, they were heckling each other."

"Pokémon have private lives and rivalries in the wild too," Matt said. "Obviously."

"Thanks, professor. Anyway, they ran off. What did you two catch?"

"Murkrow, an adolescent ready to leave the flock," Matt said, tapping a great ball. "That's how you do it, no surprises, no accidents."

Moriko exhaled, buzzing her lips. "Uh-huh. Russ?"

"A habadryad hurt a springbuck pretty bad and chased it into our path, but I captured it to get it healed up. It might leave, like the dirfox." He shrugged. "I'm hoping some treats will change both their minds, but we'll see."

"Are you going to go out again tomorrow, Moriko?" Matt asked.

She sighed. "I guess so. I still only have two pokémon."

"Well, they both have a type advantage against the plant-type gym," Matt said. "Come train with us and we'll pass that hurdle at least, and then we can head out on the road to Porphyry City. There will be more pokémon there."

Moriko tried not to make a face at the prospect of Matt's battle criticism, but it sounded good to her.

After the healing, Matt tossed down the murkrow's great ball. It reformed a little uncertainly, looking around the pokécenter curiously. It looked at the three of them, and then finally focused on Matt, fixing him with one yellow eye.

"Hey," Matt said. "I'm—"

The murkrow squawked and flapped its wings, advancing on Matt. It launched itself at his face only to be smacked out of the air by Maia, who held it beneath her paw.

Matt blinked and exhaled, putting his hand on Maia's shoulder; it wasn't clear whether it was supposed to be a restraint on the tibyss or a steadying gesture for himself.

"What's the matter?" he said after a moment. "I thought you were looking for a trainer."

"A _strong_ trainer," the murkrow screeched. "You're _short_."

Russ carefully didn't laugh. Matt's eyebrow twitched. "I'm a normal height. Well, feel free to leave—it's too bad," he added airily, "I saw a shop selling evolution stones earlier."

The murkrow fell quiet, clicking its beak as it looked from Matt to Maia. "S-stones," it repeated, tentatively.

"If you're above the recommended level I could get you one," Matt mused. "But it sounds like your mind is made up. Too bad. Maybe another murkrow from your flock would like to evolve—"

"No! I want it! I do! I'll train with you, human."

"It's Matt. This is Maia. You are…?"

Maia let it up, and it shook out its feathers, preening. "Takktktkk," it said, clicking through the consonants. "Tak. You can call me Tak. Easier for humans, right?"

"Takktktkk," Matt repeated, a passable imitation. "Tak for short. Come with us to the practice arena, I need to check your level and techniques first."

The murkrow squawked impatiently, but it hopped along after Matt and Maia and then launched into the air, following them.

They all sparred at the arena, Rufus practicing withstanding and avoiding water-type attacks from Maia, and Maia throwing off Tarahn's thunder wave attacks faster and faster. Tak was initially rebellious, but started to respond to commands and flew circles around Bjorn, who swiped at the murkrow without much force.

Russ discovered a snack food that the dirfox liked, honey-glazed crickets, and it sniffed Sylvia cautiously. The larger timbark kept her expression bland and nonthreatening, but her hind end was wriggling at the prospect of a new friend to play with.

Afterward they separated to wash up and have a late dinner. Later, Matt returned with a dusk stone from a merchant, and Russ and Moriko joined him to watch the evolution.

He let Tak out again and held up the stone, swirling with shadows and ghostly afterimages. The murkrow looked at it hungrily.

"So?" Matt asked.

Tak cawed softly to itself, considering, and then finally flipped its tail in Matt's direction. "Give it here!"

Matt pressed the stone to the murkrow's breast, and after a breath all the color drained out of the item, suffusing the pokémon with a faint purple glow. It clacked its beak, looking at something far away, and finally stretched out its wings as it started to glow white.

Its outline softened and then blurred, shifting as it evolved. It emerged a larger bird with blue-black feathers and red highlights, a honchkrow. It shifted on its perch, flapping its wings experimentally. Matt put out his arm, and Tak hopped over to him.

The honchkrow screeched in his face. "Smell ya later, cuckoo chick!"

Matt ducked, avoiding the slapping wings. It took off, flying out and over a row of nearby buildings and was gone.

The three of them sat in silence for a while.

"…Well, that happens sometimes," Matt said eventually.

"Whoops," Russ said.

Moriko bit her knuckles, trying not to laugh. _You deserved that, you smug carcass._

x.x.x.x.x

The three of them went out into the evening to get some air. It was a nice night, the summer hours of daylight a little truncated by the mountains. The main street was filled with the sound of people talking on patios and music playing, a different track at each restaurant. Moriko had filled up at the pokémon center cafeteria so that the delicious smells wafting out of each establishment were merely curious instead of torturous, but she found herself doing mental math, deducting from her savings. She sighed. Too expensive.

Russ and Matt debated the efficiency of some electronic gadget in a shop window. Moriko leaned on the ledge and people-watched for a moment, trying not to stare at the restaurant patrons. She tried to imagine what that would be like, to have a group of friends out for dinner, to order food confidently without falling to sullen mumbling as people made fun of you for whatever reason, to not worry about the cost—

"Hey! How many badges do you have? Want to battle?"

Moriko turned to see another trainer—a tourist, by the look of him: nice clothes, hair styled, shoes unsuitable for hiking, with four pokéballs on his trainer belt.

"One badge from this league," she said. Wait, did that make her sound like an S-tier trainer? Too late.

"Great!" he replied, "I've got four from Sinnoh, which is about the same level bracket."

His friends behind him looked her over and then went back to their conversation, laughing about something.

 _You, probably,_ said a little voice, and Moriko's heart beat faster, angry.

"Sure, what'll it be?" she asked, trying to keep it light.

The two of them moved into the street; Russ and Matt came up, seeing the battle starting.

"Two-on-two, no items, to the red," he declared. "Bet?"

"No bet," Moriko said. "And one-on-one, please."

"Tell them to double battle," Matt murmured. "I'll knock his block off."

I'll _knock his block off._ "I'm good," she said tightly.

"Come on! Tell her to bet, Austin!" shouted one of the friends, while another one booed.

"Peer pressure, guys! Please!" Austin yelled back, mock-censorious. "You sure?" he asked, turning back. "Just a five, what do you think? Get some extra dessert if you win, you look like you need it," he said, chuckling.

 _Spoiled idiot._ Moriko gripped Rufus' pokéball. "Cool, five hundred it is."

"Hey, if you don't—" Matt started to say, but Russ pulled him aside, away from the axis of the two trainers facing one another.

A couple of people on the street started to watch, and others on the café patio. Austin soaked in the attention and waved to his buddies, who booed him affably.

"Keep it short," a girl called. "The bar is filling up!"

Austin shook his head and turned back to Moriko. "Ready?"

"When you are," she said, and they both tossed their pokéballs onto the street.

Rufus flared his mane and pawed the asphalt at his opponent, a monferno: it was one of Sinnoh's starters, a fire/fighting-type and a quick, dangerous fighter, or at least the final form was, leaping around in tournaments with fast moves and staying out of reach. Her pokédex estimated its level at around Rufus's, maybe lower, but it had the type advantage.

 _Let it come to us, then,_ Moriko thought.

"Wow, they sure make 'em big in this region!" Austin said. "But size isn't everything—"

"That's what _heeeeeee saiiiiiiiiiid_ ," his friends all roared, high-fiving each other.

"Ten, Austin! You owe me!"

"Oh my god. Mach punch!"

"Counter."

The monferno blurred, darting in to strike Rufus on his steel armor, and its fist made it toll like a bell as the fighting-type energy washed through the burnox's body. In the same instant the counter blasted it away, the doubled energy sending the much smaller monferno flying, but it recovered agilely.

"Whoa! How are we doing, West?"

The monferno grunted something over its shoulder.

"Same thing, Rufus," Moriko muttered, and he snorted.

"Cool," Austin was saying. "Incinerate, stay far out!"

"Flame wheel, then!"

The monferno breathed a stream of orange fire at Rufus; a few people backed off, but at this level all you could feel was a little warmth. The burnox charged up, his mane flaring and a tracery of fire surrounding him before he charged in, barrelling down on the monferno.

"Low kick!"

It dodged just in time, cutting off the incinerate, and kicked Rufus hard in the side, bowling the much heavier pokémon over.

Rufus groaned expressively, thudding on the asphalt and attracting a police officer's attention—the flames weren't real, but the four hundred kilos of bull sure were.

"Rufus!"

Austin took out his own pokédex triumphantly. "And he is in the r—oh, still yellow," he said, referring to Rufus' estimated health.

"Finish it up," one of Austin's friends said.

 _This is dumb_ , Moriko thought, frustrated. _Let's just end this._ "Return, Rufus," she said, but he ignored the beam and his mane flared brighter, blazing.

Rufus charged again, and the monferno gestured "bring it!" with both hands, preparing for another low kick. At the last moment Rufus feinted, breaking off to catch the monferno in the stomach with a powerful double kick that sent it flying. Moriko's pokédex beeped as its health hit the red.

"West!" Austin said, dismayed, and recalled it.

"Yeah! Rufus and Moriko!" Russell cheered.

Rufus trotted stiffly back over to her. "See? You need to trust me," he said, reproachful.

"That was all you, buddy," Moriko said. "Nice one! Return."

Austin passed her five hundred yen from his pokédex with a beep and turned to receive his friends' ribbing. Moriko smiled at Russ and Matt, but it felt hollow, somehow.

They kept walking, window-shopping and getting sticker shock from price tags on luxury summer sport gear. There was a rocks and gems store with tourists admiring necklaces from behind glass, but also a row of dusty plastic bins filled with uncracked geodes and agate slices that an oligocline and a larvitar were eagerly petitioning their trainers for a taste of. A staturosa in white marble studded with citrines stood serenely at the center of the shop, watching for quick hands.

There was a free concert in a nearby park and Russ treated the three of them to ice cream. They sat on a picnic table under a spreading pine as musicians and soloists took the stage. The sun had gone down, lamps along the paths lighting up and fireflies glittering in the darkness under the trees.

Moriko couldn't pay attention to it, her mind coming back over and over to Rufus and Tarahn's hurt in Umber Village over her using Maia at the gym, and just now Rufus's displeasure with her attempt to recall him and forfeit the match.

 _Can't win with my own pokémon, can't catch a pokémon, can't trust my pokémon to win,_ Moriko thought miserably. _What am I doing out here? What's the point?_

She looked at the Dust Badge and felt like taking it off her belt and hurling it away.

Hasty, hasty, she chided herself, and she turned the trainer belt so she couldn't see it. _This is very teenage, this moaning and groaning_ , a part of her thought, but there was a sick satisfaction in the self-pity, like picking at a wound.

"You've been quiet, everything okay?" Russ said to her, between musical sets.

"Yeah, just thinking. Worried about the gym."

"Don't worry, you've got the type advantage, right? What could go wrong?"

"Two pokémon with double ground weaknesses," she said. "And he's expecting people to come in with fire or poison."

Russ laughed. "We'll see what happens." He put an arm around her shoulders. "Don't sweat it, we're not in a rush out here. If somebody loses and wants to reattempt the gym we'll just wait. You'd wait for me, right?"

"Of course," Moriko said, but she though of Matt and the way he'd start rubbing his hands impatiently any time they'd discuss doing something that wasn't moving immediately to the next gym town. And he and Russ seemed to get along, chatting and laughing. A coil of envy stirred in her stomach and she pushed it away.

"Thanks for coming on this journey with me, Russ," she said. "I'm glad you're here. It was worth it just to get out here to the mountains. I wish we'd gone earlier."

"Right? I feel like the air is purer out here." He raised his hands and took an exaggerated breath, and then yelped when she poked him in the ribs.

x.x.x.x.x

In the morning, Matt was called to the front of the pokémon center. A ranger was standing in the foyer, a tall and muscular man with a stern expression. Accompanying him was a high-level florges, subtly perfumed with a ruff of violet flowers, and something wrapped up in vines.

It was Tak, and it cawed sadly as they walked up.

"I found this guy stealing lunches and hats along the café walk. He's registered to a Mr. Matthew Reyes," the ranger said.

"Speaking," Matt said neutrally. "I thought he went back to the wild."

"That's still an option, but he requested to be brought here," the ranger said.

"I see," Matt said, and looked at the honchkrow contemplatively.

Tak hopped a little, shifting under the florges' vines.

"What'll it be, then?" Matt asked him. "The wild, or more training?"

Tak cawed something rude, but he looked fairly abashed. "Training," he croaked. "I can get stronger than this," he added, casting a glance at the florges, who floated meditatively.

"Quite a bit stronger," Matt said.

"We done here?" the ranger asked.

"Yes."

The florges withdrew its vines, and the honchkrow murmured and flapped his wings experimentally.

"Return, then."

There was a beat as Tak plainly contemplated lashing out or making a break for the sliding door, but he followed the beam at last.

"Be good, you little shit," the florges said, in perfect, cultured tones. "Toodle-oo."

x.x.x.x.x

More training. When they came back for lunch, new rangers were waiting for them at the pokécenter counter, not anyone they recognized from Tsugaru. Still, Moriko replayed all they'd seen in her mind, wondering what detail they'd left out, what the Ranger-Captain had sent them to find.

"Moriko Sato?" one asked, displaying her ranger ID and badge; she was average height with a shock of pink hair poking out from under her orange ranger's cap.

"Yes?"

"I'm Ranger-Lieutenant Lecce. I'd like to speak to you. Would you come with me?"

The ranger led her into the back of the pokémon center, and they sat down at a table that had been cleared of someone's lunch.

She didn't bury the lede. "A report was filed with us alleging that your pokémon were stolen."

The pit of her stomach dropped out. Moriko shook her head, her hands and feet tingling. "No," she heard herself say. "No, they're mine."

Lecce let the moment draw out, but Moriko was silent, staring at her hands. It was absurd, it was stupid, what could she say—

"I believe you," the ranger said finally, "but I'd like to go over the paperwork with you just to be sure."

Lecce pulled up Moriko's trainer registration and file number, and showed her history: check-ins at the gyms, at the pokémon centers on her journey, the upgrade to full trainer at Prof. Willow's, and on and on since she got her junior license at ten. There was a log of all her pokémon center visits that was fast-scrolled through, and the dates of Rufus and Tarahn's registration.

Moriko relaxed—surely that was clear enough—

The ranger took Rufus and Tarahn's pokéballs and tossed them onto the floor.

"I've known Moriko _forever_ ," Tarahn said immediately, almost before he was finished re-forming.

The ranger-lieutenant put out her hands, placating, especially as Rufus formed and towered over her. "I just want to speak with you two briefly, with my friend Pagliacci verifying. Okay?"

She flicked out another pokéball and a mr. mime appeared. It bowed elegantly to the two of them, somehow managing to look trustworthy despite its comical pink-and-white appearance.

Moriko waited, sick, as the ranger questioned Rufus and Tarahn out of earshot. Her fight with them before the Umber Village gym came back to her in vivid detail, her shame cutting like glass. What would they say? Was everything all right? Were they happy?

Eventually they trotted back over, and Tarahn rubbed his face against hers, and she hugged Rufus' broad neck. She took several steadying breaths, breathing in the warm hot-metal-and-leather smell of the burnox, and feeling Tarahn's purr against her shoulder.

She wiped at her eyes. "So…?" she asked, voice tolerably steady, as Lecce typed on her pokédex.

"Everything is in order," said the ranger, but she motioned for Moriko to continue sitting.

"I can't tell you who made this report—that isn't allowed, to protect that person from reprisal. But… one thing we're seeing more often is false reports by parents or guardians to stop trainers from leaving home. Sound familiar?"

Anger seemed to fall through Moriko's body and spread, like a drop of blood into water. _Of course. Of course they would_ —"Yes," she said tightly.

"All right." Lecce took off her gloves and rubbed her face. "I haven't told you who made the report, so do not react or act on your suspicions in any way. You get me?"

"…Fine," she managed to say. But then again what could she do? It would be something else no matter what. Better to pretend it hadn't happened, maybe, that they couldn't affect her.

The ranger tapped something else onto the report. "My parents didn't want me to leave home, either," she said. "You're allowed to do this. You're allowed to be out here. Some people don't understand, a pokémon is just a, a phase to them. School will still be there in the fall, and we need people bonded to pokémon, even if they're not tournament stars."

"I don't look like a star, huh?"

The ranger grunted. "Not that you can't be, but it's okay if you're not. I wasn't. This is important. What you'll do later will be important, even if it's not glamorous. Stay strong, kid."

Tarahn bumped her head with his again. Moriko nodded. "Alright."

x.x.x.x.x

"You seem down, Moriko," Rufus said later, when they were out of the pokécenter.

She reached out and scratched the hide under his cheekbones, and he rumbled, pleased.

"I just… I'm not sure if we're—if I'm working with you properly. I was worried you weren't happy and you'd leave with the ranger today."

"What? Why?" Tarahn watched her face.

"I'm not sure if I'm a good trainer," she said, looking at her hands.

"Well, you've got a lot to learn," said Tarahn smugly, "but if you listen to me I'm sure we'll come out ahead."

"Tarahn, I'm not joking."

" _I'm_ not joking," he said, bells jangling.

"I don't think that's possible," Rufus, solemn.

"Look, we had a disagreement before, we had a talk, we worked it out. That's in the past now. You can't dwell on these things. I don't. What's happening now? What are we going to do now?" The raigar slapped her knee with his paw, to punctuate.

Moriko drew a breath. "We'll train, we can try to catch another pokémon—we're going to the gym soon."

"Good! We're ready," Rufus said.

Moriko smiled and took them out to practice again, still feeling unworthy of their faith in her. But there was work to be done.

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko checked her pokédex before bed; there were a few spam emails, and one from Professor Hickory. It was an update on some of their findings at the ruins; they were taking a break for a few days in Umber Village.

 _My student translated part of the inscribed prayers we found,_ her email said. _It goes something like this: 'I call upon all the gods, thus: let their strength be my strength; let their breath be my breath; let their bones be my bones…' and so on._

Moriko stared at the screen. Long ago those adepts had needed pokémon to survive; now her pokémon needed her, they needed her knowledge, her expertise, her foresight, her memory. Directed, organized, precise, they could be more; they needed a human to do it.

 _Does it still work?_

Worth a shot, surely.

 _I will give them everything,_ she thought. _Let my bones be their bones. Let my breath be their breath. I will do this._

 _I swear it to any god listening._

x.x.x.x.x

A/N: As always, thanks for reading! The illustration for Springbuck and its evolved form is up on my tumblr/deviantart, **gaiienpokedex** _._ If you're following along with original-flavor Gods and Demons, there are only about 3 chapters left of it, and they start to reference this rewritten story heavily. I'm gonna post a couple more chapters here before the next one there goes up. Apologies for the wait!


	7. Our Lady of Thorns

**A/N:** The pronouns in the pokémon fights here were a mess, let me know if you see any errant ones. Thanks for reading! The pokédex entry for Thornlem and its fellow trio members(!) is up at my tumblr or deviantart, username **gaiienpokedex**.

Chapter 6

 _Hubris / Our Lady of Thorns / My Great Joy_

 _\- June 30_ _th_ _128 CR_

Verdure Town's gym was a greenhouse, a steel skeleton holding hundreds of glass composite panels. The three of them entered through a double set of doors into the humid interior and were instantly surrounded by rich beds of plants and fully grown trees. An attendant registered them for battles with the gym leader and directed them further inside.

They crossed bridges over artificial streams, boots thumping on the wood, and passed a number of decorative koi ponds. One such pond contained a number of water plants that, upon closer inspection, proved to be a collection of lotad: the young pokémon burbled excitedly when they approached but lost interest just as quickly. A few of the forks they took terminated in a circular space with benches or an art piece.

The path wound around and through the plant collection, meandering until Matt was nearly jogging, annoyed, impatient to see the gym leader. At last the plants opened into an arena cut into the gray rock of the mountain.

It was a different style than the modest setup Tierra had had back in Umber Village: the arena was stone with a moat cut around it and two raised trainer boxes at either end. No bleachers, but you could stand at a railing behind the moat as a spectator or referee. It was more technological than Tierra's as well; there were cameras on rails above the arena to record matches and contacts for an energy shield for high-level matches.

Moriko wondered suddenly how Tierra conducted S-tier fights without damaging her gym. Then again, a high-level ground-type match was likely to just be earthquake after fissure after mudslide attack, so maybe she had another site well outside the town.

"So nice of you three to join me. How'd you like my maze?"

The gym leader, Hawthorn, approached them. Moriko recognized him from the headshot from the gym website. He was a good-looking Asian guy with sea-green genehan hair and eyes, and he was wearing a pristine and crisp white suit. He had six pokéballs on a carrying loop in his hand.

"Pretty, certainly, but not a challenge," Matt said.

Hawthorn bowed, a trifle mocking. "I value the aesthetic quality of my greenhouse as much as the confounding, so I shall take that as a compliment. Welcome to the gym. I'm a plant-type specialist, as you've probably researched. Who wants to go first?"

"I will," said Matt. "Matthew Reyes."

Rushing ahead again. Moriko couldn't figure out if it was for her and Russ's benefit, letting them see how the leader battled before jumping in; or for his own, to try to catch the leader off-guard. Or both, or some other tooth-grindingly clever strategy.

"Two-on-two, no items, no time limit, switches allowed. Do we have an accord?"

"Certainly."

Moriko and Russ moved to the railing to observe. Matt and Hawthorn made their way to their respective trainer boxes, which elevated smoothly at the touch of a button.

A league referee in black and purple stepped out of a hidden stairwell and took her place behind a row of monitors, which would track the battle, the attacks used, and pokémon health. That was more like it: Tierra's gym had been casual and friendly, but it was good to get these official matches recorded.

"Trainers ready?" the ref called, her voice amplified. "Select your pokémon!"

"Go, Tak!"

"Go, Casey!"

Matt's new honchkrow cawed derisively at his opponent, a venusaur. It was probably newly evolved, given the gym's level bracket and its size: it was smaller and had a less massive flower compared to the hoary old obaasans you saw posed beside their equally old Kantoan trainers on TV.

Tak chattered something that Moriko barely followed—swear words, probably—and the venusaur blinked and let a few of its vines snake out.

"You may begin!"

"Wing attack," Matt said.

"Sleep powder."

The venusaur shook its leaves, releasing a large cloud of bluish-gray powder, but Tak sped through it, heedless. Twirling, he struck his opponent with outstretched wings.

Hawthorn snapped his fingers and muttered something that his mic half picked up; it sounded like "insomnia". Ah. Honchkrow's ability.

"Dive bomb it, Tak."

The honchkrow flew up high and dove toward the venusaur. It stood its ground, summoning a cloud of razor leaves. Tak punched through them, but it took some of the force out of his attack, and Casey followed it up with a body slam that caught the honchkrow on the rebound.

Tak flapped awkwardly away, and his opponent had a wound on its side that was bleeding dark plant-type ichor freely.

"Finish it off," said Matt.

"Toxic!"

Tak came around again with another wing attack, and took the toxic attack full on, the poisonous gel clotting on his feathers. He scraped along the venusaur's side, slicing off leaves while weathering fitful slaps from its vines.

Casey looked like it was almost out, but it fired another blot of poison at Tak, and this one looked like it stung. The honchkrow screeched, dropping to the ground and hopping to right himself, and finished his opponent off with a flurry of pecking attacks.

"Return, Case," Hawthorn said. He replaced the venusaur's pokéball and selected a new one, and then smiled at Matt. "Nice work so far, but I'm going to have to negate your type advantage. Go, Illa!"

The gym leader's next pokémon was a sort of small camel: it had greenish-yellow fur with gold strands like long, dry grass along its neck and jutting out from its shoulder blades.

 _Galvallama, the static pokémon_ , said the pokédex. _A plant- and electric-type, it evolves from alpavolt with age or a thunder stone. It is quite docile and is used as a pack animal in the mountainous areas where it resides. When its mane is sticking straight out, its electrical power is fully charged._

"Begin!"

"Thunderbolt, Illa."

"Night slash."

Tak was flagging, poisoned, but he charged at the galvallama and raked it with his talons, just in time to take the full force of the thunderbolt attack. He cawed weakly as Matt recalled him.

Matt thought for a moment, the counter ticking down, before tossing Bjorn's great ball out onto the field.

The wood-brown ursaring seemed to unfold as he stood on his hind legs, and gave an enormous roar. He towered over the smaller galvallama.

"Begin!"

"Thunder wave, Illa."

"Slash, Bjorn."

Bjorn growled and loped towards the galvallama. Illa emitted a pulsing wave of energy as he drew near; with a roar, the ursaring swiped at the plant-type—

And halted suddenly, a few centimeters from contact. Bjorn twitched and shook, every muscle locked in a state of paralysis. Illa warbled a laugh and headbutted the ursaring in the belly.

Bjorn struggled to his feet again, massaging his stomach and trying to get his wind back. Meanwhile, Illa was dancing just out of his reach, taunting, laughing and occasionally sending a thundershock or two his way. Enraged, he tried to lunge at the cheeky galvallama but found that all his limbs were stiff. His gait was lumbering before, but now it was a painful shuffle. He swiped jerkily as Illa darted in and out of range, getting angrier and angrier—

"Bjorn! Think for a second!"

The ursaring actually stopped in his tracks as Matt said that. Then, bizarrely, he dropped to all fours, hid his face, and… started crying? Bjorn had turned his back on Illa and was making sad, mewling cub sounds.

Moriko frowned. "What the…"

"Is this a technique?" muttered Russell.

The galvallama was equally mystified; it crept around its opponent in a wide arc, staring. Bjorn crawled closer, sobbing.

"Illa, watch it—"

Bjorn's feint attack caught his opponent with a devastating blow to the head, and it went tumbling across the arena. It lay there limply, the referee's flag shooting up on the sidelines as Hawthorn recalled it.

"Fake tears," said Hawthorn. He shook his head. "I should have known. Congratulations—you can pick up your badge from the attendant."

Matt returned Bjorn and leapt off the platform before it had fully descended, landing catlike on the concrete floor.

"Whew!" he said. He pushed his hair back from his sweating brow. "I was a little worried for a minute there."

"That was a dirty trick," said Russell, grinning. "I'll have to remember that one."

"Who's next?" asked Matt.

"I'll go, unless you want to, Mor," Russell said.

"All yours."

Russ scanned his trainer ID and rode the trainer box to its higher point over the arena. His ID photo flashed onto the screens near the referee's station. Moriko winced at the old picture, but it was quickly replaced by a live one, a camera focused on him.

"Same conditions as before?" Hawthorn asked.

"Agreed."

First flag from the ref. "Select your pokémon!"

"Go, Keigan!"

"Go, Xylia!"

The gym leader's choice was a leafeon. It seemed small and drab next to Russ's new springbuck, whose pink and blue hide and white spiraling horns all demanded attention.

"This might be interesting," Matt commented, arms folded as he regarded the brief pre-battle posturing.

"Yeah?"

"Leafeon are tough and strong—the springbuck better stay out of its way."

"Shouldn't be too hard, he can fly—"

Second flag. "Begin!"

"Xylia, swords dance."

"Gust, Keigan."

Keigan's small wings fluttered. He hovered like a cotton candy reindeer, using his air-type powers to fly, and he whipped up the gust attack.

The leafeon leapt and whirled. The gust didn't interrupt its dance; its ragged, kinked leaves stood out straight and took on suddenly keen edges.

"Stay out of its reach, Keigan," Russell said. "Gust again."

"Razor leaf."

Xylia shook itself, producing a cloud of leaves that shot up and after the springbuck. He maneuvered in the air, dodging, but several hit and sliced through his pelt, leaving streaks of red. He exhaled another gust attack that the leafeon tried to sidestep, but it struck and scattered some of the extra razor leaves.

"Aerial ace."

Xylia disappeared and reappeared, almost teleporting, and struck Keigan a ferocious blow that hurled him to the ground. He righted himself just in time, hooves skidding on the stone of the arena instead of the full-body hit he'd seemed destined for. His eyes glowed pink and the leafeon's second aerial ace faltered, but still hit him hard.

"Charm," Matt commented.

"I know."

"Whirlwind, Keigan!"

The vortex caught Xylia at close quarters and it was trapped, buffeted by the wind.

"Gust and horn attack!"

The springbuck added more power to the whirlwind, and his opponent was jounced around, silvery air-type energy slicing along its pelt. He charged in to strike at it with his horns. The leafeon bounced out of the whirlwind, and Keigan followed up with more gusts, leaving it looking battered. Hawthorn finally recalled it.

Keigan wasn't in good shape, though: he was panting after weathering those powerful blows. Too bad, it would have been nice for Russ to sweep the leader's team.

Hawthorn paused for a moment before selecting another pokéball and tossing it into the arena.

"Go, Jurojin."

A mooskeg appeared, brown and green with crowning white antlers; Moriko thought of the younger wild mooskeg she'd seen a few days before, smaller and less impressive.

Jurojin wasted no time after the flag from the ref, and charged Keigan as he rose into the air, striking him with its horns.

"Gust, Keigan! Keep your distance, same again!"

"Wrap, Juro."

 _Ah-ha._ The mooskeg produced trailing vines from its neck, and it reached up to drag its opponent out of the air. Keigan flew higher, sending down another gust, but his attacks were getting weaker and easier to dodge as he grew tired.

Moriko keyed on her pokédex. "He's not that hurt, he has a couple good turns left before he faints."

Matt shrugged. "Wild pokémon don't fight until they faint, normally. He hasn't really internalized the idea of the pokémon center. He thinks he's gonna die."

Moriko felt a chill at that, and felt bad for forgetting. Wild pokémon lacked that safe refuge and effortless recovery; no wonder they'd often run from battle.

Russell also seemed to realize that Keigan wasn't ready to give it his all, and he recalled the springbuck.

Next up was Sylvia: the timbark arrived snarling, putting on a show, and Jurojin shuffled backward. The mooskeg was big, but so was Sylvia; she was getting ready to evolve, the branches on her shoulders widening their span.

"Horn attack."

"Crunch, Sylvia!"

The mooskeg charged in, Sylvia dancing around it and sinking her fangs into the meat of its neck, and it bellowed with pain. Its antlers yawed as it tried to hit the timbark, but that just dug her fangs in, worrying the muscle, and it could only scrabble at her with its hooves, panicking.

Pokémon weren't the same as animals, but the similarity to the wolf and the elk seemed to form a dreadful resonance, destiny pulling them on.

"Focus, Juro! Use wrap!"

The mooskeg remembered its vines and grabbed Sylvia's back paws, sweeping them and forcing her to let go at last. It staggered backward, its neck and chest a pulped mess streaming blood and sap—and glistening with poison, courtesy of her new poison fang technique.

Moriko's pokédex pinged as the PSN decal appeared on its readout.

Hawthorn surveyed the scene with his lips pursed, and finally recalled the mooskeg. "That's enough of that, I think," he said. "Congratulations, Russell. Good work, Sylvia."

Sylvia relaxed, her tail wagging as she accepted the compliment.

"Thanks! Great battle," Russ said politely, and recalled the timbark. The platform sunk to the ground and he dismounted from it, calling, "Your turn, Mor!"

Moriko exhaled, nervous claws sinking into her belly. She had a type advantage on two counts, so… everything would be fine.

"What?" she said, realizing Matt was talking to her.

"I said, good luck," he said, amused.

"Oh… thanks."

She nodded at Russell as she passed him and stepped over the gap onto the trainer's platform. Her heavy boots rang on the metal; she grasped the railing, taking care to keep her balance as the platform rose.

"Two-on-two, no items, no time limit, switching allowed. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Moriko's picture flickered onto the referee's display as she registered the battle.

"Select your pokémon."

"Go, Tarahn!"

"Go, Tuktu."

Hawthorn's latest choice was a yulerein, dark green in its summer forme with forward-arcing antlers bristling with pine needles. Moriko was used to seeing it as a cartoon, white and shining and surrounded by delighted children, but this one looked like it meant business.

 _Yulerein, the sleighing pokémon. An ice- and plant-type. There is a tradition where its antlers are decorated during the winter solstice. It is used in polar regions as a draft animal for its strength and endurance, and its resistance to cold._

Tarahn paced, the bells on his head and tail taking on a minor-key jangling, and from his posture she imagined his eyes wide, glittering with purple fire, and his mouth open with poison fangs bared.

Suddenly she felt disconnected, regretting and dreading the violence she sought, and she clutched at the steel railing hard enough to hurt.

 _Get your head in the game, kid,_ she thought. _Let my eyes be their eyes; let my wisdom—such as it is—be theirs._

"Trainers, begin!"

"Frost breath, Tuk."

"Use poison claw!"

The yulerein exhaled a cloud of ice, white shards twirling and then shooting toward Tarahn, aiming for eyes, nose, belly. The raigar slowed, warbling in pain and rubbing at his face with a paw.

Moriko winced. "Watch it, Tarahn!"

Tuktu closed the gap between them, charging into the raigar with a headbutt. Tarahn scrabbled on the stone, reversing motion, and leapt onto the yulerein, his hind legs propelling him vertically. He swiped down Tuktu's flank with his claws with their whole weight behind them.

The yulerein bellowed in pain and shied away, stumbling, with dark blood and oozing poison coloring its fur.

 _That_ was more like it. "Thunder wave, Tarahn."

"Icy wind!"

Tarahn pointed his body at the yulerein, waves of electricity gathering and pulsing to arc between them. Tuktu's muscles seized, and it shuddered as it stood rigid. With an effort, the yulerein exhaled another blast of cold air.

Heavy crystals accumulated on Tarahn's fur and on the arena floor; they stabbed into his feet as he tried to shift position. He moved gingerly, sweeping with his paws while not taking his eyes off his opponent.

"Venom spray, Tarahn."

The raigar's physical attacks would do more damage, but he'd have to get there first. The battle had slowed to a crawl as both opponents circled each other, limping.

Tarahn hacked up a clot of poison, splattering Tuktu. It shuddered and exhaled another frost breath. Tarahn whined as the shards homed in on critical areas, and he shook, sending glittering frost crystals tinkling onto the arena floor.

The yulerein suddenly charged again, head lowered, catching Tarahn up and onto its antlers—shoot, it must have thrown off the paralysis—tossed its head to throw him—

Tuktu screamed as Tarahn clamped onto its neck with his claws and dug in, ripping gouges into the hide. It tried to throw him, and it overbalanced and fell, clattering, onto the stone. Tarahn yowled as he landed on the antlers, but managed to scrabble to his feet. He dove in, biting at the yulerein's throat—

"Tarahn! Stop!"

The raigar snarled, backing off, but the yulerein didn't rise. Plant-type ichor surged out of the wound in its neck. It kicked its legs weakly as Hawthorn recalled it.

Hawthorn took an ultra ball off his trainer belt and passed the other five to an aide, who took it into the back to an in-house pokécenter facility.

Moriko exhaled. "I think you'd better stop too, Tarahn."

The raigar was limping, leaving red footprints on the stone. "If you insist," he said lightly, but she could tell he was relieved.

Moriko clipped the raigar's scuffed pokéball to her belt and selected Rufus's ball, flicking it out into the arena. With a burst of red light, the fire-type bull materialized, bellowing, his mane and tail burning blue near the hide.

Hawthorn didn't throw the ultra ball. Moriko squinted across the arena at him; he was turning and turning it in his hands, looking down at his pokédex with an expression of dismayed fascination.

"You were unlucky today, Moriko. I forgot that I'd left this pokémon on my belt," he said eventually. "It's… not one that I usually bring out for tier two battles. It's just under the level limit or we wouldn't be having this conversation. You having a fire type makes me feel slightly better for my… oversight. You might actually have a chance."

Moriko felt a chill. She was used to pre-battle boasting and other dubious claims, but that flat, expressionless tone… "You can't go get a different pokémon?"

He sighed. "In the middle of a battle? Illegal. The match would be invalid." His wrist was curled inward, as if he could restrain what was in the ball with his body. "You can forfeit, when you see it, and come back tomorrow."

" _You_ could forfeit," Moriko heard herself say.

Hawthorn's mouth quirked. "I… still have my pride. As do you. Let us dash ourselves upon the rocks of hubris. Are you ready?"

"Whenever you are."

Thorn nodded, looking tired. "Go, Spinoza…"

Moriko watched the ultra ball curve upward and hang in the air for a limpid moment before descending, and in yellow light—

It was like nothing she'd ever seen.

Thorns, thorns in a ball, and they unfolded: thorns and needles on long arcs of twisting metal and old, gnarled vines. It uncoiled like a mass of snakes, with the sibilant scraping of wire on wire.

It was tall and thin, the central body small with long arms and legs. Headless, its eyes opened, twin glowing holes in its chest.

 _Thornlem/Akanthamaton, the automaton pokémon (debated synonyms). A plant- and steel-type. It follows orders without question and will fight to the death. However, it will not attack unless instructed to, and birds nest in it for protection. According to legend, it is an artificial pokémon.  
_

Moriko watched it wait for commands in utter stillness.

 _It will fight to the death._

She felt a yawning pit of violence open up before her, of humanity's attempts to coax new pokemon—artificial pokémon, clones, variants—out of nothing, out of the ashes of failed attempts, twisting energy and genetic matter in secret and terrible experiments. What resulted rarely thought well of humans.

She _could_ forfeit.

But he'd know, he'd know she was coming, the girl with two double weaknesses to ground, and if he didn't have a torterra already he surely had something that knew dig or—hell—mud-slap. No. Well, it was grass- and steel-type, right? Two could worry about double weaknesses.

She looked down at Rufus, who was shifting with impatience. Couldn't hurt to try, could it?

"And so?"

She looked across the arena at Hawthorn. "Real spooky," she said, with a bravado she didn't feel.

Hawthorn swept his arms. "Behold my treasure, my lady of thorns. The royal family of Nalea commissioned an alchemist-adept, yea, long ago at the dawn of days, to create elementals that did not tire and did not sleep, and waited only to act on their command. Rangers find them, sometimes, wandering. From death, life; from silence, a word; from stillness, action. Can you stand against the akanthamaton, Moriko of Port Littoral?"

Moriko kept her face neutral, listening to the gym leader's obvious pride and sudden animation.

 _You shit, this is tier goddamn two. You're supposed to surprise me with a starmie, not an arcane pokémon._

The referee hadn't intervened, so it was all legal. She glanced at Rufus, who was looking up at her; he lashed his tail and snorted fire.

 _Fine._ "Let's get started."

Hawthorn smiled. "Night slash."

"Incinerate, Rufus!"

The burnox arched his back, fire charging in whorls before merging into a sphere that launched at the thornlem, trailing embers.

It waited, as still as a statue, and then dropped to one knee with a whispering hiss. The fire attack dissipated harmlessly on Hawthorn's trainer platform.

Spinoza shot forward, swiping at Rufus with a hand full of needles and dark energy. The needles screeched over his metal armor and caught him on his unprotected hide, and he groaned, flinching away. He retreated and spat a burst of embers.

"Try incinerate again!"

"Again, Spinoza."

Rufus' second fire sphere connected directly: the thornlem was lit up now and yet indifferent to the flames licking along its vines. It tore at the burnox with another brutal clawing hit. Rufus shuffled backward again, bleeding freely.

Hawthorn leaned on the railing of his trainer box. "I'm sorry, Moriko… but your burnox just isn't on our level. We'll make an appointment for you for tomorrow."

Moriko wanted to snarl, her lips peeling back from her teeth and her hands clenched on the railing, accusations martialling: what a trick, a trick to torment traveling trainers, "accidentally" you cheating fuck—

"It's time to end this. Spinoza?"

And in the way the golem moved it became apparent that the blows it had dealt before were mere horseplay. Spinoza struck robot-fast, reaching out in a brutal backhanded swipe before Rufus could react.

He groaned, shaking his head. The second strike sent him tumbling, and he bawled as he skidded on the stone, metal armor drawing sparks and screeching.

Rufus rose, agonizingly; a trickle of blood dripped out of his mouth as he panted, every breath labored and painful. His flames had been reduced to a flickering trail of red-orange.

Moriko could barely think. Two pokémon with a type advantage, and this asshole with his too-strong pokémon— _Oh, excuses!_ —What good was a trainer who couldn't win, who couldn't direct her pokémon effectively, who had to win with borrowed ones—

"Moriko!"

Matt's voice broke her out of her reverie. She looked up to see Spinoza going for another blow. Where was the ref?

She whipped out Rufus's pokéball. "Stop it! Ret—"

The arena erupted in light.

The thornlem stopped, halted in mid-swing. Moriko shielded her eyes, trying to see what was happening. Rufus was—

The light slowly faded, revealing an enormous figure. A minotaur, armored with overlapping steel plates over crimson hide with dark smoky splotches. His flames were burning with a burst of energy from the evolution, and he had pipes venting smoke on his back and shoulders.

 _Oxhaust, the furnace pokémon. A fire- and steel-type, it evolves from burnox near level 36. When it gets fired up, its body gives off thick smoke. It uses its heavy armor to withstand attacks up close. It is believed to have developed from exposure to ironworking and steam engines._

Rufus flexed, testing his new body, and he bellowed a stream of fire that flared blue at the arena ceiling.

With a hum, the shielding flicked on.

Rufus shifted, staring at Spinoza. It moved backwards very slightly.

He lunged, grabbing its outstretched limb, heedless of the needles, and vented an enormous flamethrower right into the center of its body.

The thornlem was engulfed in flame, its needles falling around it like rain, and it stood still for a shocked moment before its shape writhed and boiled. There was no sound from the creature save a dragging, knife-sharpening sound as its body rearranged itself with machine efficiency.

It no longer stood on the ground. It held onto the oxhaust with four arms, spiderlike, shedding steel and ash as it burned, and it fought on. It dragged its deadly fingers along Rufus' armor, finding the spaces where the hide was unprotected.

Rufus snarled, trying another flamethrower; the fire spread to its limbs, and he roared as it stabbed its big thorns into his hide, into seams at his neck and belly. He wrenched its grasping hands off him with a sound like twigs snapping and punched the golem right in the eyes. It flew through the air, still burning, and landed with a screeching wrench of metal.

It rose—still!—it rose again, one of its legs falling off with a clatter.

Hawthorn silently recalled it, yellow energy taken up and bundled away. He laughed quietly. "Pride," he said to himself, the mic barely picking it up. Louder: "You were lucky—"

"Funny how my luck changed," she said tightly.

The gym leader's face crinkled into an ironic expression. "You can pick up your badge at the front. Stay lucky, Moriko. Nice timing, Rufus."

Moriko nodded, not quite trusting herself to reply. Rufus sagged, his injuries reasserting themselves in the wake of his evolution: the blood was shiny and dark on his hide, fire dimming and dwindling. She recalled him as well.

"Great job, buddy," she whispered, putting his pokéball back on her belt with trembling hands.

x.x.x.x.x

The Seed Badge, and a little prize money from the league for their dwindling stores. Not enough to celebrate on, although Moriko found herself looking at the total on her pokédex wistfully and thinking of restaurant food. They walked out of the gym, heading down the street and back to the pokémon center. Matt let Maia out, the tibyss demanding attention after not getting to fight.

"There you go," Matt said. "Nice clutch evolution, but that only works once."

Moriko sighed, brittle.

"That was kind of scary, to be honest," Russell broke in.

"Yeah, he has two of those things," Matt said, showing them the photos on his pokédex. "He has a bigger one that he uses for S-tier battles. What an asshole. Imagine if Erika or Gardenia pulled that, people would lose it. Arcane pokémon shouldn't be in gyms, or not at tier two, at any rate."

Russ frowned. "Why does he—"

"Why do you think?" Matt gestured with his pokédex. "Look how upset she is."

"I'm not upset!"

Russ made a softening gesture and Matt shrugged. Russ hugged Moriko, one-armed, as they walked.

"Hey, you did it! And Rufus evolved!" He watched her expression. "You don't seem pleased."

She thought of all the blood and the huge gouges in Rufus' hide, of burning eyes in a monster's body that was unable to scream.

"That all was... heavy. He evolved in pain and fear. A little heavy for tier two."

"That's how they live," Matt said, quietly. "Blaze ability, to surge up strong in a pinch, to evolve in a pinch. It's what's driven their forms for thousands of years. They have always fought."

"And they fight for us. Is that fair? A fair trade? It's all their skin in the game." She looked at Maia.

The tibyss stared back. "I am made strong by humans. I can fight as much as I like, and afterward I am made whole. You have seen the wild ones running, have gnashed your teeth over it. They run because they must only snatch a bit of power here and there. Too badly hurt, they will diminish; too badly hurt, they are prey for killers and opportunists.

"Moriko, this is my great joy, to be here. Believe these words. But I speak only for myself. Ask _him_."

x.x.x.x.x

Rufus reformed out of energy in the pokémon center yard and looked around with interest, his gaze eventually coming back to Moriko.

"Hey," she said, softly.

The oxhaust crouched down to see her better. His eyes were blood-red, set deep into the armor on his face. He put out his hand, three-fingered and leathery, and she put her own on it, tiny, tiny.

"You seem sad," he rumbled.

"I'm sorry you got hurt today," she said.

Rufus rolled his shoulders; for all the severity of the cuts, they hadn't been life-threatening, and the pokécenter healing had closed them up without a mark. "Getting hurt isn't fun," he agreed. "But that was a good battle. I turned it around." He grinned, showing pointed teeth, and she felt nervous at the change in him, all those familiar bovine gestures replaced by humanoid ones. He watched her. "You don't like me, like this?"

"No! No. I do. Look how cool you are," she said, touching his metal-shod horns and spiked gauntlets. "I just felt worried that it... happened too fast. Happened badly. I was scared for you, scared of that... thing."

"It was creepy," Rufus said. "But it wasn't… mean." He stretched, swinging his arms, flexing the changed muscle. "I don't think it was anything," he said, contemplative. "Never seen that kind of pokémon."

A made thing. They'd made pokémon in labs, famously, the great drama of their time. But mewtwo and genesect were like any pokémon, eager or gloomy or cantankerous as the mood took them, or at least the movies had made them seem so.

Humans had always made pokémon. They'd shaped them for some destiny, some far-away fight that maybe never came, or that came much too soon.

She stared at her hands. "I was worried maybe it was too much, and you wouldn't want to battle anymore. If you feel that way I won't make you. You can do what you want."

Rufus exhaled a smoky, spicy breath. "I like battles. I like winning. Why stop when we're winning?" He squinted at her. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No! I mean. I want you to be happy, not scared or hurt. I'll do whatever will make that happen."

"Good. Tell me I look cool."

He straightened up and flexed his arms, doing bodybuilder poses. She laughed and started taking pictures with her pokédex camera, his spirit flames outlining his body and the faint smoke rising into the summer night.

x.x.x.x.x


	8. Hanging Tree

Chapter 7

 _Look for me another day; I feel that I could change / Let it Be Heard / Liona, Lonno's Get / Hanging Tree_

 _July 2_ _nd_ _-7t_ _h_ _, 128 CR_

"And there you are," Russ said, tossing out Keigan's pokéball. "Good as new?"

The springbuck fluttered his wings and preened. "Yes, thank you. I am quite renewed."

Russ let the dirfox out of its pokéball and it looked around before noticing the treats in Russ's hand. It even let him stroke its ears for a moment before it skittered around the yard, nosing in the dust. It was getting more and more confident, although it still hadn't answered when he'd asked it if it wanted to go back to Tsugaru.

He'd begun to get the feeling that the dirfox had mixed feelings about returning: he'd inadvertently kidnapped it, but something terrible had happened in that park.

All the saints, he hoped he'd never see something like that again. He thought of his parents and their warnings that had taken on a pleading air as his departure date drew closer. Gods, they'd seemed silly at the time.

Russ stretched, looking out at the mountains; it was a fair morning with the sunrise illuminating the highest peaks. Good weather to walk in. No, this had been worth it: witnessing the aftermath of a murder was a huge weight, but on the other side of the scale there had been the wide-open prairie, the joy of the capture, the delight of the pokémon battle, and mountains soaring above you like pillars holding up the sky.

And it was already July: the end of the summer was barrelling toward him and it would be time again for school. He was a giant nerd, but he loved that feeling of returning with new books and new knowledge awaiting him. A brand new school in Kanto, brand new friends— _that_ was a little scary, but he was sure it would go well. And he'd be able to visit home during the holidays and see his family and Moriko.

 _She needs you_ , a voice said, and he felt gross. How patronizing to think that about her; she was an adult like him, not a hurt animal. But he couldn't help wondering what would happen when he left. Saints, at least she was out of her aunt and uncle's house.

He was a little selfish, keeping Matt around: he was clever and funny and easy on the eyes, and him sniping at Moriko was a problem, but... well, surely he'd come around. Three people and a dog was the right number for adventures, and they all had dogs, so it was even better.

Keigan floated, looking over the pokécenter roof, and came down at Russ's offered treat, a sugar rose, which he crunched on daintily.

Russ smiled. "How did you feel about the battle with the gym leader? A little different than training, right?"

"It was fine. Some of the other pokémon were… quite injured," Keigan said uneasily.

Russ nodded. "It's true, I would hate for you to be badly hurt. For what it's worth, the pokémon center healing can fix any injury if you act fast enough. But that doesn't mean that your pain or fear in battle isn't real. If it was too much, or if you need a break, or you want to head home, you can tell me anytime."

"Very well." The springbuck's wings flittered. "Could you… if you don't mind, could you brush me with the round comb again?"

x.x.x.x.x

Keigan was hailed by the other pokémon as he joined them in the exercise area.

"So, you staying, cotton candy?" Tarahn asked.

"Cotton candy?"

Tarahn lifted a paw explicatively. "Ah yes, you see… it is a substance."

"Indeed?"

"It's sugar," Rufus said. He was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow. "One time Tarahn ate so much that he vomited."

The other pokémon looked at him in fascination.

"How?" Keigan asked.

"I just kept eating," Tarahn said proudly. "All of a sudden it all came back up."

"Ick."

"It's useful to train with a human for at least a season." Maia looked at the springbuck, appraising. "You weren't doing badly in the wild, but there's so much more energy to go around when you're with a trainer."

"Yes. My siblings will be fine without me—perhaps better off for a while without the habadryad harassing them." Keigan dipped his ears. "That was my fault, I'm afraid."

"What did you do?" Tarahn asked.

"I trampled their garden. It is a plant-type source, and they traded it with lombre and timbark nearby. I caused them some… transactional difficulties. I couldn't help it." The springbuck's eyes glazed over. "There were just so many crunchy, breakable things."

The raigar laughed. "I'd like to see you try that in a human garden."

"There is a famous conservatory in Porphyry City to the west," Maia said. She looked at Keigan. "All poisonous plants."

The fairy-type shuddered. "I have a great deal to learn about living with humans, a great deal indeed."

"It's easy," Tarahn said, rolling over. "You sleep, you fight, you sleep again. No worries, right?"

"Who keeps watch for enemies? How can you protect the herd in a ball?"

"How do you keep watch when you are hiding? In the ball you can extend your awareness just the same," the tibyss answered. "You can feel enemies' passage and their intent, and you can let yourself out."

"How?" Keigan asked, interested.

Maia extended a claw and gestured. "Find the crease in the energy. You can flick it open with practice."

"You can escape the ball at any time?"

"Certainly, but there are many situations where it would be inconvenient to solidify."

"One time I let myself out in a car," Tarahn said, pleased with himself. "Everyone was so mad."

"I see. You all are satisfied? You have not been mistreated? I sensed… why, I sensed such blood in the fights with the human leader."

"The more blood, the more benefit," Maia said, a green gleam in her eyes.

Keigan looked at her, aghast. "Do you mean to say that you—"

"No," she said sharply. "No one dies. No one is consumed. This is forbidden."

"There's no need," Tarahn said. "Everyone can get strong."

"This is all very strange." the springbuck was silent for a moment. "But I would like to know more. I have heard stories. You are put under the torture for disobedience?"

"Torture?" Tarahn shook himself, bells ringing. "What would that even be like? You could just slip away."

"He is quite disobedient, and no one has tortured him even when he deserves it," Maia said, pushing Tarahn over. He pretended to bite her paw.

"I think bad trainers do something bad to their pokémon," Sylvia said. She scratched her neck, sending pine needles flying and dissolving into lightmotes. "I saw it in a movie. They trick them so they think they can't leave. But you can leave anytime. Just tell the chansey at the pokémon center that you want to, and they'll help you get home, or to find a new nicer trainer. Russ is very nice though," she added. "He's always been nice. Even when I chewed up his homework."

"Is easier if you say name of human place," Bjorn the ursaring broke in, speaking for once. "You say: gods' cave beyond the falls, they do not know. You say: Blackthorn City, they know. This town name of Verdure Town. You remember this."

"Thank you," Keigan said. "Sir? Are you from this land? I have not seen your like."

"No. Region name of Johto. Far in east. More temples there, more humans."

"Is it strange being so far away?"

"Not so strange anymore." Bjorn grunted and put his head on his paws. "I am caring of Matt when Maia is a kitten. Now I am sleeping lots, fighting sometimes. Is good."

Keigan looked doubtful. Bjorn clarified: "Is fun fighting, like. Practice with friend. You know? Not fight to death. No one needs die. Humans stop you if try. Stop you hard."

x.x.x.x.x

It was tempting to take the train from Verdure straight to their next stop at the capital in Porphyry City, but they were still on the hunt for more pokémon. Russ had mapped out a series of routes where they could continue on foot through various nearby villages and intersect with the railway sooner or later depending on their stamina and the weather.

They set out into the mountains, following the easy paths through the valleys. The weather was changeable, showers passing into sun into showers again as moisture from the Lacuna Sea hit cold air coming down out of northern Gaiien.

There was a popular ski hill outside of Verdure, switched over to mountain biking for the summer, with the runs like lighter clawmarks among the dark green of the conifers. Past that, it was easy to pretend that they were the only people in the entire world, although periodically the clearcuts for power lines swooping along mountainsides ruined the illusion.

They followed the old road for much of the way, the original stone laid down by second-crossing rock-type specialists in the distant past. A few of the trading towns along the route had endured and grown into stops along the railway or tourist attractions; others had dwindled into shelters for traveling trainers, silent and serviced only by an automated store.

The old guard towers loomed over them here and there, flames unlit for centuries. Some of them had been repurposed into monitoring stations and ranger lookouts, but more were forgotten, tumbled-down ruins half-eaten by lairon and orocline or bickered over by nigriff and aquilux.

A few wild pokémon made an appearance: squarrel and margue darting in to bite and then tear off again; warhare and wartinger; some sparkat kittens to whom Tarahn told outrageous and unbelievable stories about his battle prowess. Moriko caught a lombre whose parent ludicolo showed up to reclaim it after half a day, and led it off into the forest with much grumbling. They heard the loud, slow clacks of orocline fighting from far away, but didn't set eyes on them.

At Lake Iolite there was an inn and a campground accessible by rail. There was a long beach with sand ground down fine by rock pokémon and local kids splashing in the green water. They got a hot meal at the inn: spam musubi and vegetables from its garden, and canned pineapple for dessert. It was a feast after their increasing indifference to the trainer stores' frozen meals and trail bars.

In the morning the ferrywoman took them down to the docks to her boat, which she told Russ about in detail as he listened politely. Moriko concentrated on getting herself and the bags onto the craft without incident. It wasn't a canoe that could tip, but she wouldn't put it past herself to unconsciously decide to re-enact every funny marine mishap video she'd ever seen.

A vaporeon was curled up under the helmseat, in shadow, and it twitched its tail in greeting as they came aboard.

"Well well," it said. "How is the Gaiien League treating you, trainers?"

Moriko smiled. "Pretty good!"

"Only pretty good? Surely it's been more exciting than that."

"Well… it's been… rough in places."

Moriko found herself scanning the shadows between the trees where the forest dropped into the lake. The beach by the campground was bright and open with colorful towels and umbrellas, but as they came around the shore the noise of kids playing faded and was replaced by the sound of the dark water lapping at the shore and the smell of earth. It smelled like old things and secrets.

She shook herself. "You must see a lot of people come through."

The vaporeon's fins rippled. "Enough to be interesting. Enough for gossip. Tell me some."

"I saw… we saw someone who'd been murdered," she heard herself say. "By a pokémon." She regretted it instantly, a heavy thing to confide in someone she'd just met.

But the vaporeon nodded, gracious. "That does happen. A great tragedy. Life cut short, for nothing. So much drive and purpose, evaporating, lost. What are your dreams, trainer?"

"I'm sorry?"

"In the stories the hero is tested. Find the true treasure in a hall of mirrors; answer the riddle; do not look back into those caverns of the dead. Name your heart's desire and be found worthy—or not. Who knows if you'll make it out of the woods?" It bared its teeth, mischievous. "Tell me, trainer, so at least that wish won't be lost."

Moriko felt her skin prickle, felt the weight of the air on her suddenly. She felt the pine trees and the mountains loom over her like judges.

"I want to be the best, ever," she whispered. "I want everyone to know it, I want them to fall silent when I walk into a room, and"— _I want my pokémon's strength to be my strength I want their falling jaws to be my jaws I want their swift feet to be my feet I want their vast wings to be my wings_ —"I want no one to care… what I am, or what I look like, but only about the perfection of my competence and the splendidness of my strength."

"Let it be heard," the vaporeon said.

There was a resonance, like a bell tolling, and the suffocating closeness evaporated. No longer was she on trial before a court of the earth, but just a girl in a limp sweatshirt who badly needed a shower.

"What… what was—"

"Look here," the vaporeon said, and she stared down at it in shadow, all tissue-paper fins and tail.

"Ah," it said, meeting her eyes. "You're what the humans call… half. Part second-crossing and part third."

Memory whirled, and it struck like a knife. She tried to forget. "Yes."

"Well… in my experience, being different makes you a target. Standing tall gets you chopped down."

The vaporeon stood in the light. It was dark blue and scaled, what the breeders called the 'primitive' morph. It opened its eyes wide, and they were bright green, not the limpid black pools of the standard. The pale iris exposed the slit pupil, a sinister effect only valued in the dark-type umbreon.

"I was bred for showing, for contests—but I came out wrong."

"No one is born wrong," Matt interjected, and Moriko jumped. She'd forgotten he was there, and he said it like he wanted to believe it.

The vaporeon slow-blinked at him happily. "Oh, but there was hope—pokémon can learn to alter their form at high level. And so I trained and trained, and along the way I learned that contests were built around an empty ideal, and that the people I loved best enjoyed such differences instead of scorning them."

Its skin rippled as it shifted, turning to the standard vaporeon form with polished-onyx eyes and light blue hide, and then back again. "And so I can… pass. But there's no reason to." And it looked up at the dock, at the ferrywoman stumping along the boards, and she smiled at it, and stowed the last of the gear in the boat.

"That sounds terrible, about contests. I never knew they enforced dumb breed standard rules like that," Moriko said.

"Not so much anymore—they realized how inappropriate it would be to judge, say, coordinators by bone structure and integument, and so it is not right to judge pokémon so. Now there is a more general appearance category, and the precision of techniques is emphasized." It lashed its tail once before relaxing. "Water under the bridge, as they say."

"I'm sorry. Would you have preferred battling?" Moriko asked.

"Oh, the contest training wasn't all for nothing," the vaporeon said mildly.

The boat rose up on a swell of water, and they surfed off smoothly and at a good pace.

"Doesn't scare the fish, this way," the ferrywoman said, unfolding an outrigger.

x.x.x.x.x

After a few days the pokémon encounters dried up, the wild pokémon there and gone as fast as a couple blows traded before fleeing. More signs of animals than pokémon, in fact: birds and insects calling, deer, wolves howling at dusk, a black bear from far away across a river. The bear was concerning, but they had physically imposing pokémon for protection.

Quarric Village was a welcome sight, a little mining town with a railway stop. Food and a bed for tonight at the pokémon center, and then a train ticket for Porphyry for tomorrow, or whenever was soonest. They could walk to Porphyry as well, but it would take weeks through increasingly swampy ground. You'd be swimming half the time if you were walking and portaging half the time if you tried to canoe.

Moriko had been hoping to catch a water- or rock-type along the way for the fire-type gym in Russet Town, but the three of them were all getting irritable. Too much time on the road; it was time to move on. They could search for water-types in Porphyry or trade with a tourist.

They knew something was wrong as soon as they saw the helicopters and jumpcraft taking off and landing around the little village, emblazoned with red and orange pokémon ranger decals.

They approached cautiously. Pokémon rangers and frontier police were on patrol along the single main street of the village, and a ranger with officer insignia asked to see their trainer IDs as they walked up.

She looked over the records that popped up on her pokédex. "You three reported the murder at Tsugaru?" she asked.

"Yes," Matt said, as Moriko and Russ nodded.

"Do you know what's happened here?"

"No, although I'd guess it's bigger than that, judging by the activity."

"Murder number three in two weeks," the ranger said. "How interesting that you three are around again." She keyed a pokédex app and started to speak into it.

"Uh..." Moriko said, as those words sunk in.

Matt watched the ranger silently.

"Would you come with me, please?" the ranger said, as she was joined by a couple of tough, martial-looking pokémon, a machamp and a malamar.

"You three again," the malamar trilled at them. It was the one from Tsugaru.

x.x.x.x.x

A friendlier-looking ranger and a couple of psychic-types questioned them, and in the end they seemed to be satisfied by their answers. The rangers offered them the use of a portable healing machine for the pokémon, and afterward they accepted an extra ration and sat around on folding tables and chairs with the rangers on break.

Russ introduced himself to some young-looking rangers and was talking to them animatedly before broaching the topic of the latest murder.

"We have a good idea of what pokémon is responsible now," one of the junior rangers said. "We think it's the same one, the attacks are very similar: solitary trainer with weakened pokémon who's attacked and mutilated."

"It's good that you guys are in a group, I can't imagine what possessed these ones to be traveling alone," another junior said. She shook her head. "You can do that on the city routes in Kanto, but not here. It doesn't even have to be murder, just getting overwhelmed with too few pokémon or falling off the trail in the dark and breaking your neck."

"They're small town trainers," another guy said. "They're used to going it alone and they don't have much money for a guide or such."

"Lots of people have hiked Gaiien alone, or claim to," the first ranger said. He turned his pokédex around to show the comments on a training website. "You can get away with it if you're S-tier. Look at all these people bragging. Gives you a false sense of security."

The third ranger shrugged. "If you're smart—"

"It's not a matter of who's smart or stupid—"

"These things come in waves," an older ranger said. "There's some accident, and regulations and oversight tighten and relax, and then the cycle repeats. Everyone was freaking out about creeps for a while there—that's all we heard as kids, watch out for chesters and stay in groups."

"I didn't know they'd invented pokémon training during the age of the dinosaurs, habibi."

"Whippersnapper. When I was in ranger school, that's when it shifted to worrying about level sixty deathkings slithering out of the deepwilds and flattening villages. Now it's gangs looking for ronin and using kids as bait. In a few years it'll be something else."

One of the juniors shook her head. "Our pokémon behavior prof always said that the danger of killer pokémon was overstated, statistically, but this year's been a doozy."

"There have been more murders than these three?" Moriko asked.

"We had two missing trainers early in the season, both S-tier."

"And they were fifteen and sixteen so you've got people saying that the league needs to be eighteen and over, period. Another thing." The older ranger coughed. "Uh, that investigation is still ongoing."

The junior fiddled with her cap. "We had a couple of ronin after that, and now these murders."

"People get hurt all the time, even in the settled regions," the older ranger said. "It's not so much the pokémon, it's the environment. People don't respect the danger of things like losing the trail or pushing too hard in an afternoon."

"Should we keep traveling?" Russ asked.

"What? Oh yeah, no, don't quit yet, just keep an eye on the ranger boards. We're about to catch this killer pokémon"—the other rangers all rapped the tabletop with their knuckles—"doing aura sweeps in the forest, so after that things should quiet down for the rest of the summer if we're lucky."

"What kind of pokémon is it?"

"Pokédexes for all three cases pinged a caligryph, so we're pretty confident about that one. Aura analysis says air- and dark-type, around level forty."

 _Caligryph, the scribe pokémon. A dark- and air-type, it evolves from nigriff due to environmental factors or with a DNA splicer BLK. It carries a mystical scroll that it writes on to trigger its strongest attacks. In folklore, the quills from the left side of its body could only write truth, while those from the right could only write lies._

Air and dark, just like at Tsugaru.

Russ exhaled, trembling. Moriko put her hand on his, and he held it gratefully.

"Should've backtracked after all," he said quietly.

"Or taken the train, or stayed home and all become dentists," she whispered back. "Can't second guess."

"I'd be a great dentist."

"Are you sure? Remember that fuzzy tongue picture from health class?"

"I do now. I do now." He turned and squeezed Matt's shoulder. "Doing okay? You haven't said anything."

Matt nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, let's… let's figure out where we're sleeping tonight."

x.x.x.x.x

With the pokémon healed, they were free to leave. Presumably they didn't fit the killer pokémon's M.O. as long as they stayed together, but it seemed imprudent to go too far from the rangers tonight.

The pokémon center was closed, which was bizarre. After some poking around they found a distracted, harried clerk who filled them in: the murdered trainer just recently set out from the village, and the whole place was in mourning. They could sleep in the pokécenter lobby if they wanted, but the facilities were all shuttered.

The town instantly seemed gloomy, and the three of them were tired besides. They decided to head out to a nearby camping area with showers and privies and set up there.

The pokémon were antsy; they'd heard a lot of the discussion from inside their pokéballs and they wanted reassurance. The newcomers to the group, Keigan the springbuck, Conall the dirfox, and Tak the honchkrow, wanted to hear the account of the murder at Tsugaru-koen, and were alternately disgusted and fascinated.

"Kill the human and not his pokémon? Someone got that backwards," Tak said, and cackled harshly. "Unless it had a grudge," he added, and his eyes glittered, contemplating Matt's hands on the picnic table.

He dropped his beak to the table with a thunk, and Matt slid his eyes over to him. Tak stared back, swaggering, before finally giving up and fluttering to a tree branch.

"We encountered a ronin last summer, but the elders… disposed of it," Keigan said. "They are dangerous, strong and fast, but after all they are alone, and they can be misled and trapped."

"Who took it up?" Tak asked.

Keigan pawed the ground and shivered. "Unbelievably foolish to do so. It's not a clean soul."

Tak groaned. "What a waste!"

Moriko didn't quite follow this. Ronin got unnaturally strong by killing other pokémon—presumably if you killed them back, you could get strong, too…

x.x.x.x.x

Ranger-pokémon Bitefang extended her awareness again, the creeping tendrils slithering along every surface, worming into the cracks and crannies where pokémon would hide as energy. She startled a few forest pokémon that retreated deeper into their holes; she kept going, searching for their quarry.

This was a good place for it to hide: energetic spoor from squarrel and margue was everywhere, the dark-type trails weaving and looping over every tree and branch.

Bitefang checked in with the other searchers telepathically, trading observations.

 _East searcher Turai here, I've picked up a dark-type trail and large tracks._

 _Tell your ranger_ , said pokémon captain Spirol. _East searchers, converge on her position._

The grimass got the sense of the direction through the link and started to move through the forest, partially phasing to make her hooves light on the roots and dirt and fallen logs.

She saw the shapes of the other ranger-pokémon through the trees and she grinned. The end of a hunt was always exciting.

They all had the trail now, a wide and foolish dark-type signature, not the pizzicato footfalls of a squarrel. Bitefang stretched her neck out as she ran faster, as light as a cloud through the forest, phasing through branches and jumping over roots. Wild pokémon were afraid to phase, thinking they'd be snorted up in an instant. She'd seen it all, and she knew that a healthy pokémon couldn't be eaten that way.

They flitted through the forest, lithe bodies or bulky ones streaking fast between the trunks, and all at once she could feel where the trail ended.

Their target crouched in the dark, wings mantled. It backed up into the ring of searchers and squeaked, caught.

"Dark and _fighting_ , Turai!" someone said, exasperated.

Bitefang clacked her jaws. In front of them was a nigriff, not a caligryph—and she couldn't estimate level like a human pokédex, but it certainly wasn't level forty.

x.x.x.x.x

Curiosity about the murders sated, some of their pokémon wanted to explore the campsite area, and the three trainers made sure to pair them up with a buddy before they left.

Tarahn followed Maia as she explored. She sensed a creek nearby, and he batted at silvery fish that disappeared into the water while she drank upstream. As they walked he chattered, hoping to impress the larger tibyss. She was amused by his antics, at least.

She halted suddenly and he fell silent, casting his gaze around the trail, tail lashing.

"Show yourself," Maia said in her husky voice.

They waited, the forest silent except for a bird call, far off.

"Thunder wave, ahead and to the left," Maia said quietly, and something dark and winged burst out of the ground cover.

Tarahn shrieked and waves of electricity pulsed off him toward it. It tried to take off in a puff of air-type energy, and then faltered under the thunder wave.

Maia shot a bubblebeam, the spheres cracking on it and knocking it out of the air.

It scrabbled backward. "Stop! Stop! Please, why this violence?" it said, trying to rise. "I merely want to speak."

Maia stood tall, her crest quivering. "Proceed," she said.

It straightened, a bipedal avian pokémon with black plumage and a pair of oversized feather quills held in its claws. "I am looking to travel with humans for a time. Please, bring me to your trainers."

The tibyss' tail rippled once. "Very well," she said. She shifted so that there was a space on the path between her and Tarahn. "Please go ahead."

"Wouldn't you prefer to lead the way?"

"We'll let you know."

The dark-type walked ahead of them on the path and kept casting nervous glances backward.

"Keep going," Maia said.

They came back to the campsite and Russ was there alone. He stood up when he saw the pokémon, tossing down Sylvia's pokéball. The timbark growled briefly before falling silent, assessing.

Russell relaxed, seeing the two of them. "Oh, hi Tarahn and Maia. New friend?"

"Maybe," Maia said. "Where are Matt and Moriko?"

"They went to the privies, I just got back. The facilities are, uh, a little indelicate."

The wild pokémon was trembling.

"Everything all right?" Russ asked. He flipped his pokédex on. "…Caligryph."

The pokémon leapt into the air, flying off over the trees.

Russ ran at an angle, staying out from under its path. Sylvia growled and shot a needle attack after it, but it was out of range.

"Weird guy," Tarahn said. "What was that about?"

"The killer pokémon the rangers were chasing was a caligryph," Russ said. "I mean, I don't know if it was the same one—"

"It was skulking around in the woods when we found it," Maia said. "I don't trust it."

"Yeah, and—shit." Russ flicked open the messages app on his pokédex. "I don't know if this will reach them."

Tarahn watched him, the fur rising on his shoulders. "Reach who?"

"The privies are that way," Russ said, his fingers dancing over the projected keyboard.

"Yeah?"

"…Matt," Maia said, and she whipped around and tore off through the trees.

"Maia! Wait!" Tarahn called after her.

x.x.x.x.x

Rufus stood guard by the outhouse door. After a moment, Moriko dashed out of it, the spring snapping it closed again behind her, and she took a grateful breath.

"Oh gods, Rufus, cleanse me with fire," she said.

The oxhaust obliged, the spirit flames washing over her harmlessly. Moriko let down her ponytail and smelled her hair and then her clothes, but she could only detect her own journey funk and not the Eau de Toilette she'd just left behind.

"I should have just peed in the woods, that was awful. Do _not_ go in there, Matt," she called, seeing him coming up the path. Bjorn was loping along behind him.

"These campsite privies are all treated with enzymes, it's not that bad," he said. "Fortify, my friend."

Frickin' Matt. "You'll understand in a moment," she said airily. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Moriko and Rufus walked in companionable silence for a while, and Moriko stopped when her pokédex pinged. She opened the radar app, and it showed a pokémon nearby.

They started to walk toward it, but it winked off. Too bad, pokémon often saw you first and then hid or ran if they didn't want to fight.

The pokédex buzzed again after a few steps, the aura dot behind them this time.

Moriko turned and looked up the trail; there was nothing but the narrow dirt track through the forest, overhung with branches. The dot disappeared.

"Can you smell anything?"

The oxhaust shook his head.

It was quiet. She listened to the sound of Rufus breathing, the whispering of his spirit flames. What was unusual about a small pokémon darting around, too fast for the pokédex to get a reading?

There was no birdsong.

She moved closer to Rufus, and they kept walking.

Another ping. Moriko didn't look at her 'dex. They sped up.

A shadow to their right. Rufus snorted fire and charged it, punching branches out of the way and smashing bushes beneath his hooves. Moriko followed, but he barrelled into the undergrowth and she lost sight of him.

She halted, alone with the trees all standing over her. All she heard was her own breath and her hammering heart.

But she didn't have to be a ranger to backtrack along the trail Rufus had left. She carefully took pictures of her surroundings with her pokédex, scuffing the dirt as she followed the broken stems.

When she was back on the path she exhaled gratefully.

Gods, she needed another pokémon. She couldn't go out without at least two; Tarahn would have to try to woo Maia another time.

"Rufus! Rufus!" she yelled into the trees. She turned on her pokédex and told it to search for a fire-type aura.

 _No matches. Show excluded results? (Y/N)_

There was a dark-type dot right on top of her.

She looked up at the caligryph, hidden in a spruce. It leapt to the ground, landing lightly on its clawed feet. It was crow-black with a griffin's ears and tail, and an oversized scroll slung over one shoulder.

They watched each other for what felt like a long time, the seconds caught in crystal.

"Who are you?" she asked. It seemed relevant somehow.

"A traveler," it said.

It swung the scroll around and extended its leaf; it raised one of its oversized feather quills, long and shiny and sharp-edged, and it scribbled something with a flourish. Her skin itched as the pen traced along the mystical paper. She tried to shift backward, her whole body suddenly held rigid, as if paralyzed.

The caligryph put away the scroll, and it held its quills like duelist's daggers. "May this soul strengthen Ituras," it said. It advanced.

Rufus hit it like a freight train.

The oxhaust knocked it to the ground in a cloud of feathers, and it righted itself and launched at him, screaming. Moriko could move again; she dashed to a safe distance. Rufus dropped his head and charged, fire flaring all around him. The caligryph drew in its limbs and spun up a drill peck attack only for Rufus to cross the distance and hit it with fire and a quick hammer arm. He lifted the caligryph and crushed it against a tree.

"Don't touch my trainer," Rufus said.

The caligryph groaned, choking, and its outline began to blur as it fainted, turning to energy. To escape.

Moriko hurled a pokéball at it, the capture net extending with a silver glitter to encompass its energy form and draw in the dark mass. Moriko watched the ball jerk, another one ready in hand. When it stilled, confirming the capture, she shuddered and leaned against Rufus, thinking of the thing's yellow eyes.

"Moriko," Rufus said miserably. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she said. "I'm fine. You came in time." She smiled at him, a trifle brittle. "Maybe don't cut it quite so close next time."

"Moriko! I'm here!" Tarahn yowled, racing up the track.

x.x.x.x.x

The rangers took the pokéball away, and Russ and Moriko recounted the evening's events to their questioners while a hexx and the malamar quizzed Maia, Tarahn, and Rufus. Recording devices were brought out, and they had to give their testimony again, witness statements for the killer pokémon's trial.

Afterward, the ranger-captain approached them; it was Captain Grouse from back at Tsugaru-koen.

"I'd like to offer you my thanks and my apologies," Grouse said. "Thanks that you did our job, and apologies that you had to do it. That should not have happened. We should have been able to distinguish between the aura signatures and gone after the right one. You were in extreme danger, danger I was supposed to keep you out of. I'm sorry."

"Moriko was in danger because she was separated from her pokémon," Matt said. "That won't happen again."

Moriko agreed, but Matt saying it made her want to cover herself in jam and go lie down in the long grass alone. She nodded politely to the ranger captain.

"Good. Is your team size an issue? We can set you up with a loaner pokémon, we've got plenty that wouldn't mind taking some time off for a few weeks to do gyms. We're very happy to send rangers along with trainers on rough stretches through the wild, it keeps our juniors busy. No?"

"That's very generous, but we should be all right," Matt said. "I'm already intruding on these two." Russ punched his arm, and Matt smirked.

Moriko grimaced inwardly, ignoring Matt's jibe; gods, how humiliating to have to be babysat by a ranger mentor like a ten-year-old.

The captain nodded. "It's no trouble, truly. Call us up anytime. With this out of the way, I hope things will return to normal. Just remember your wilderness safety and you should be fine."

Outside, the rangers' camp was sleepy with the killer pokémon situation resolved. Only a few ranger-pokémon remained awake, interrogators and aura specialists and their trainers.

Under spotlights in the middle of the camp was a containment field with a dark shape floating within, and there were wires and cables running everywhere on the ground, haphazardly covered or not at all. Computer and pokédex screens were faded under the spotlights.

As they walked up the caligryph threw itself against the shielding, back and forth with a sizzling noise and a whine as the generators spun up at high power draw. A couple of rangers and pokémon approached, unconcerned, and eventually the caligryph fell exhausted.

A grimass chuckled darkly. "Not this time, friend. Nor ever again, I think."

"Do you want to see this?" Ranger-Captain Grouse asked them quietly.

Moriko's eyes flicked over the machinery. "What are you going to do?" The image came to mind of a ranger with a big axe or a sword, like in period dramas.

"Just verification. We'll take it to Thalassa Heights for sentencing afterward."

"Are you going to torture it?"

"No! That's illegal. But you might hear it go into detail about what it did." She sighed. "And it sucks to see pokémon that are upset, even when you know they've done wrong."

"I'm gonna turn in," Russ said. He rubbed his face. "It's been a long night."

"See you in a few minutes," Moriko said.

She and Matt approached the pokémon containment. The caligryph glanced at them, its features swimming or magnified or shrunk grotesquely under the changeable high-power shielding. The malamar and the hexx looked on as the grimass and a xatu performed the aura analysis. It looked like an arcane ritual, the pokémon's eyes glowing as energy swept and whirled, and they and their trainer occasionally muttered code words to one another like a numbers station.

Eventually the system powered down, and the xatu sighed and hopped back into its pokéball.

Ranger-Captain Grouse clapped the aura technician on the shoulder. "And so?"

"Ninety-five percent certain."

Grouse nodded. "Thalassa in the morning for the nine nines, then. Try to get some sleep, Wong."

The caligryph was crouched on the floor of the dome, head bowed. Moriko crouched alongside it, and it looked at her briefly, as if it didn't recognize her. Maybe it didn't. She jumped when it hit the barrier, claws hissing on the shielding.

"I need—one more—" it muttered.

"A confession," the grimass said quietly. She flicked her long ears. "Why'd you do it?"

The caligryph screeched at her and she bared her teeth perfunctorily.

"How could you know? How could you even dream of what we are forced to do? Must do?" the caligryph snarled, yellow eyes wide.

The grimass pawed the ground, an invitation. "Tell me."

"Do you know how many children die, pushed out, weak, consumed, easy prey for ronin? And here you are, rich with energy. You make me sick."

"Why do you think I'm strong?" the grimass asked. "I partnered with a human being. I didn't kill a kid in the woods all alone and expect that to help."

The hexx drifted forward, all floating fabric and ghostly hair. "And what did you get from tasting that gross flesh? Did you get even a single particle of energy?"

The prisoner looked briefly cowed. "There was… it was promised…"

The hexx covered its mouth with its hand; the malamar hissed.

"You complete idiot. You idiot child."

"Worse than idiotic," the hexx said.

"They gave me energy! I was strong for the first time!"

"Exactly. And you paid them back thirty-fold with human hearts," the grimass said, disgusted.

"The first taste is always free," the hexx said. "And then you pay and you pay, and you go on paying."

Moriko couldn't follow this; she glanced at Matt, who was pale and shaking, his lips pressed into a thin line and his hands balled into fists.

"Captain, what are they…?"

Ranger-Captain Grouse seemed to remember that the two of them were there and drew away from the arguing pokémon, steering them back toward the sleeping tent that Russ had gone to.

The captain waved a hand. "Don't worry about it, some ronin think they're serving gods or powers."

Off to the side was another containment unit at lower power. The shield was nearly transparent, with only a faint iridescence like a soap bubble to mark it. The pokémon inside was curled up in the bottom, sleeping or trying to.

"Is that another killer pokémon?"

"We've cleared that one of any wrongdoing," Grouse said. She cleared her throat. "What you heard back there… pokémon sometimes turn to hunting other pokémon to get a boost when they're cut off from their home range. They're siblings, we think the elder was dragging the younger around. I'm not sure where it got the idea that killing humans would be useful."

Moriko watched the bubble as they went by. "What's going to happen to it?"

"It's free to go, but we'd like if a trainer could adopt it." Grouse looked at her significantly. "Probably these two thought predation was the only way for them to acquire energy. Not all wild pokémon know or realize that training with humans can be beneficial instead of one-sided."

"I'm… not sure it'll be too happy… What about with other nigriff in the wild?"

"We can try to match it with a wild group or a mixed one, but that can be ugly: with no social ties it'll be the butt of the pride. Try talking to it later, maybe some good can come of this whole mess."

Russ was already asleep when they came to the tent, and Matt lay down without a word, kicking off his boots and pulling the cot sheets over his head. Moriko flicked off the lamp, but she kept looking out at the crease of light coming through the tent flap.

She went out again, back to the pokémon's containment.

"Hey," she whispered, approaching and crouching down. "Are you okay? What's your name?"

 _Nigriff, the griffin pokémon. A dark- and fighting-type, it has two environment- or item-related evolutions, caligryph and ursagriff. They are proud and nest high on mountains, but they will fight among themselves for the best perches. They use darkvision to navigate at night._

The nigriff hissed. She tried to look big, standing over Moriko and spreading her wings. She had black plumage highlighted with dark red-brown, and a black beak and scales. "I'm Liona, Lonno's get. Who are you?"

"I'm Moriko, I'm a traveling trainer. I have two pokémon, Tarahn and Rufus."

"I don't want you," the nigriff said, misery settling on her all at once. She turned her back on Moriko and lay down again. "I want my brother."

Moriko tried to think of something gentle to say, instead of all the bald admonitions that kept jumping to mind.

"What are you going to do, now that you're alone?" she asked.

The nigriff screeched angrily, helpless. "I'm not alone! I have my brother!"

"Liona, your brother killed three people."

"He had to!"

"Did they attack him first?" _Interrogating this hurt, sad pokémon? Real persuasive, Moriko._

"They were humans hunting pokémon," she said sulkily. "They would have if they could."

"None of my pokémon have ever killed anyone," Moriko said. "Why did he have to?"

"We didn't have anything. The others took our home so we had nowhere to go. It's none of your business. It's not fair. Who said you could capture him and kill him back?"

"What would the penalty have been if your brother had killed someone in your pride? In your family?"

Liona rumbled, annoyed, but she didn't reply.

"You don't have to live like that, Liona. You don't have to live alone or to prey on others. You can come with us and get strong, and if you don't like us you can go with another trainer, or come back here."

"I don't need you. Go away."

Moriko went to bed. It had been a long shot, and the nigriff had no reason to trust or love humans.

x.x.x.x.x

The rangers and ranger-pokémon had no luck persuading Liona, and in the morning she flew away alone.

The three of them marched to the next town in silence. The train would be skipping Quarric Village for a couple of days as the pokémon rangers mopped up the last traces of energy from where the trainer had been murdered.

That evening they made it to Lake Chrysocolla. They set up their tents and would get to Blackwood-on-the-Mere in the morning. They hadn't talked much all day; Matt hadn't said anything since the previous night, and Maia was at his side protectively. The weather had strained everyone's civility, with drizzling showers all day chilling them under their rain gear. Moriko brought Rufus out to help with the fire and Tarahn came too.

"Moriko," Tarahn said miserably. "I'm sorry. You were almost hurt."

Rufus crouched to look at her. "I left you. That was dumb."

"It was a close call," Moriko allowed. She wasn't mad, but gods—the caligryph had been a few paces away, and she thought of the broken body of the trainer at Tsugaru and felt like her knees would give out.

She shook her head. "We'll stay together as much as possible from now on, okay?" She reached out to grasp Tarahn's paws and squeeze them, and then Rufus's hands.

The two of them were especially solicitous that evening, staying close to her and peering ferociously into the twilight, but it could only last so long before they got bored. Sylvia was irrepressible, putting Russ back into a good mood as he threw a tennis ball into the lake for her over and over.

Moriko left the sodden campsite with Rufus and Tarahn, and they poked around the lakeshore. Moriko showed Rufus how to skip stones now that he could throw. He tried a couple practice ones and then set a beautiful flat stone skipping until it was too small to see, and Moriko cursed herself for not getting it on video.

"That one went to the _moon_ ," Moriko exclaimed as Rufus hid his face shyly, the rain steaming off his warm hide.

"And some say it's still skipping," Tarahn said, rolling on the rocks. "Come pet my belly, Ru, it's your responsibility now that you're a two-legs."

"It's a trap," Moriko told him. "He'll bite you."

Rufus obediently petted Tarahn's stomach, and the raigar's bite clanged off the oxhaust's metal armguards.

"Ow! Cheating!"

Moriko nodded. "Thus was the trickster punished."

"…Trainer Moriko?" said a voice.

Moriko whirled, and Rufus and Tarahn looked up.

It was Liona.

"…What can I do for you?" Moriko asked, heart beating fast. She found herself staring at the nigriff's talons and tried to look her in the face, at her sharp raptor's beak.

But the rain had plastered Liona's fur and feathers down flat; she looked miserable. She had a fresh cut on her foreleg.

"I… you look happy, oxhaust, raigar. You look strong," the nigriff said tentatively.

Tarahn came closer, and sat on his haunches next to Moriko. "Oh yeah, the strongest. We're going straight to the top. Right?"

Rufus peered at Liona, suspicious. "Your brother tried to hurt Moriko. Are you going to?"

The nigriff gave a thin cry. "I don't—I never wanted—"

"Hey," Moriko said, trying to be soothing. "I don't blame you. He was the one killing people. Right?"

"It was all we could do, he said," Liona said miserably. "I didn't know. Our parent died."

"I'm sorry," Moriko said. "My—" Her voice caught.

After a moment, the nigriff said, "I don't like being alone. I thought of you. I don't know you, but… it's got to be better than nothing."

Not a sterling display of confidence, but it would do for now. "I'd love for you to come with us, Liona. Right?" she said to Tarahn.

"No quarrel with you, little birdie," he said cheerfully.

"Rufus?"

He folded his arms and looked stern. "It's fine if you're good."

"You don't have to stay with me if you don't want to," Moriko said, "but you can come and get warm by the fire all the same. We'll take you to meet other pokémon and other potential trainers if you want."

The nigriff shook out her wings miserably.

"Don't think about it now. Just come rest. You've had a long day. Several long days."

Liona took a few uncertain steps out of shadow, and she followed them.

x.x.x.x.x

Matt lay in his tent with Maia crushed up against him. The chill and the nausea were almost normal now.

Gods. Were they here? They couldn't be. There must be others, other ugly powers exchanging strength for blood. This was an old region, after all.

He should tell the others. He laughed bitterly at the thought.

x.x.x.x.x

A/N: Thanks for reading! The vaporeon in this chapter is based on a Purebred Vaporeon design by we-were-in-love on deviantart called Guilded Midnight. A new pokédex entry for the Nigriff line is posted on my tumblr/deviantart, **gaiienpokedex**.


	9. Songs for Lost Girls

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Check out my tumblr for an illustration of dirfox and soiote and their pokédex entry.

Chapter 8

 _Elder Tree / Songs for Lost Girls / Knives / Cruel Old Child_

— _July 8_ _th_ _-10_ _th_ _128 CR_

Blackwood-on-the-Mere was a tiny village with not much to recommend it beyond a train station and an inn, but the latter turned out to be just what the three trainers needed. They were greeted with a feast: hot coffee and tea, fresh bread, last summer's preserves, cold horchata and smoked game meat, and they fell upon it while the pokémon healed.

They caught the train a few hours later and all promptly fell asleep in their seats, awakening in the evening to the clatter of the snacks cart in the aisle. They watched from the window as they passed the high bridges over the swamp, which lay still and gray-green where they could see it through the mist. And then all at once the mist cleared and the train pulled into view of the Lacuna Sea, which glittered to the horizon as the sun set.

Far away to the north was the Northern Gaiien Passage, Sastruga Fjord and its tier eight gym, and then the border of Gaiien. Beyond that was Arctic treaty land, ice that few people remembered how to live on, and monsters.

In the twilight Porphyry City loomed before them, a city on a hill, the capital of the old second-crossing kingdom. The old town had many of the original buildings still standing, while the city had expanded outward with new construction built on the cliffs sloping down toward the beaches and on a crescent of artificial land stretching out into the water.

They caught a glimpse of the bay: boats were visible by their lights, small craft for fishing and day journeys. Port Littoral's industrial docks with its ranks of haulers were missing, but the big ships could make the trip to the Lacuna Sea through the Northern Passage. Porphyry had a comfortable climate year-round and a lively nightlife, and there was a steady traffic of airplanes and jumpcraft at the airport just outside the city. It was a popular destination for a taste of wild Gaiien with the usual comforts close at hand.

"Have you guys ever been here before?" Matt asked them.

"I went last year for a mathletes competition," Russ said. "Honestly, it's kind of a dump. Everybody wants to sell you something and half of them are scams, you pay for a boat trip that doesn't exist or, like,"—he coughed—"erotic massages, but they just steal your pokédex and maybe stab you."

Matt laughed for the first time in days.

"It sounded like there was a lot of trouble on that trip—I remember you sending me emails, complaining," Moriko said.

Matt smirked. "The massages get out of hand?"

"Oh saints." Russ rubbed his eyes. "No, no one tried to buy a massage. Other than that, though… I thought math nerds would be well-behaved, but everyone brought hard liquor in shampoo bottles and stuff. Hua brought her pokémon and she had a plan to fleece tourists by posing as a dumb junior trainer and making extravagant bets, but she ran into someone with the same plan and stronger pokémon."

"I've heard that's a whole cottage industry here," Moriko said. "They pressure you into betting, or they let you win and then you bet big, but the fourteen-year-old has a level fifty garchomp all of a sudden and you lose everything."

"Well not level fifty," Matt interjected, "that would be illegal to battle with on the street."

Moriko waved a hand. "You know what I mean. They overwhelm you with a strong pokémon."

"You should say—"

"You sound wistful, Mor," Russ said. "Thinking of raising some money?"

"I wish," she answered, turning away from Matt. "I hate counting pennies."

At the rate they were spending, she'd have to stick to free pokémon center meals and conserve potions strictly, though the latter hadn't really been hard with the lack of wild pokémon they'd experienced so far. Russ had more spending money from his parents so she wouldn't be left with nothing, especially for healing items, but it was galling.

She tried not to think about her options with no money, namely having to head back to Port Littoral. Going home also meant having to put herself in reach of her aunt and uncle again, who'd shown that they couldn't be trusted several times over. Her original plan to go back in the fall and work there was more and more unattractive.

It was funny, how having strong pokémon was supposed to mean that you were independent and grown-up, but they, pokémon-less, had found so many ways to inconvenience and control her.

The path to the pokémon center from the train station was riddled with street vendors. At night they were mostly selling drunk food, greasy or starchy offerings to soak up the alcohol, and the air was full of the smell of frying bread and noodles.

There were street performers putting on light- or fire-shows with buckets for donations held by stern raticate and warhare, but also some shady-looking sellers with poorly printed brochures, and cut-rate pokémon mystics offering to equalize your pokémon's chakras and judge potential.

A wild-eyed guy on the end of the row had a table dotted with grisly photographs and all-caps printouts with dubious punctuation. The font size was such that it was easy to read from far away: he was a Saffron truther, asserting that Saffron Town had been destroyed by second-crossing terrorists rather than that legendary ancient ho-oh. They gave him a wide berth.

The pokémon center was in an old building, and there was an odor of basements and sea fog that clung to it. Reviews said it was actually unexpectedly quiet in the evenings due to people staying out to party. It was undergoing renovations, rooms and chunks of the elderly stone under plywood and plastic sheeting, and the attendants gave them vouchers to get meals at a hotel up the street. They slept through the night, although it wasn't clear whether that was because it had been quiet in the dorm or because they were bone-deep exhausted.

Moriko nearly wept at the hotel breakfast. It was palatial after hiking food: cinnamon French toast with syrup and berries, eggs and smoked fish, fresh fruit on ice, yogurt and granola, and other more savory items, but her eyes were only for the toast.

They three of them ate in total silence. A couple of helpings later, they slowed and started to talk about where to head next. The sign-in board on the dorms had updated when they scanned their pokédexes; there were quite a few names on the list, some familiar ones from the campsites in the regional parks, but also lots of travelers. The board included a column for region ID, and there were trainers or budget tourists or both here from Kanto, Sinnoh, Tanos, and other regions.

The sign-up for the gym was bizarrely handled: the lists were backlogged, but they reset every week and you could get in _if_ you were early enough in line. Lots of out-of-region trainers were here just to give it a try, along with the Gaiien regulars making the circuit for the summer. People were lining up early in the morning and even battling to move ahead.

"The leader should have subordinates that you have to battle first if it's this popular. This is nuts." Matt jiggled his leg, annoyed. "It's to get people to linger here longer and spend money." He cast a dirty look toward the reef, and the hotels and casinos on the pier.

"Are we gonna get up early to line up?" Russ asked.

"We're gonna _camp out_ to make sure we're first in line," Matt said. He checked the time on his pokédex. "We can do some training before sign-up day, and there's a professor living here in town who I want to speak with."

"Who is it?"

"Prof. Alder, she's retired. A million years old. But she knows a lot, she studied with the old second-crossing clans back in the day."

"Is there a good spot to train?" Moriko wondered, querying her pokédex.

"We're in the capital city and she wonders if there's a good spot to train," Matt muttered, keying his own pokédex.

"Among all the _possibilities_ for training, I would like to look for the best one—"

Matt held up his pokédex, displaying thousands of video search results for 'Porphry [sic] City Street Battle'. "Just look around you, my friend. Training is happening as we speak."

Moriko grit her teeth. "I've noticed you say 'my friend' when you're not bring friendly."

"Street battles can be hit or miss," Russ said quickly, "but they are easy to set up. It looks like there are several type-specialist guilds in town we can hit for personal instruction as well."

That sounded good; it was helpful for pokémon to be tutored by more experienced battlers to learn new techniques or perform known ones more reliably.

Matt sniffed. "Costs money if you aren't a member of the guild already."

Of course it did. Moriko closed that window.

x.x.x.x.x

Matt split off from them to go look for battles, and Russ and Moriko decided on the same. They took a sedate pace around the old town, studying kitschy souvenirs and watching the boats in the harbor. The weather was perfect; there were people skating and skateboarding, kids playing with pokémon and dogs, and tiny figures crowding the white beaches down below.

"Oh hey, look who it is," Russ said to Moriko.

"Who—? Oh gods," Moriko ducked her head, seeing Angela. "Peace out."

"Mor—"

Nope, she was gone. Too bad. Russ couldn't fix that little rift, as loath as he was to admit it to himself. He strode over to Angela, waving. She looked amazing; her hair was glowing in the sun, and her skin was clear and tanned with a dusting of freckles.

"Hey Russ!" She dropped her bags and hugged him, delighted. "How's everything going?"

Russ smiled, a little embarrassed of his sweaty shirts and hack shaving job. "Great, we got the badge in Verdure and we're signed up for the gym here, hopefully it goes well."

"That's great! We're getting some sun today down at the beach, there's a wonderful cove with shade trees and the water is the perfect temperature. We're signed up for wakeboarding tomorrow! Want to come?"

"I've got to train, but that sounds amazing. Post pictures, okay? How are your pokémon doing?"

"Rio and Phoebus are good, Rio is juuuust about to evolve I'm pretty sure. I also caught a springbuck and a warhare in the mountains. The mountain warhare have a great look, they get a fluffy coat in the winter—"

"Listen, I wanted to speak with you a little seriously, but I can bug you later, I don't want to ruin your day—"

Angela put her hands on her hips and exhaled. "Come on, Russ, I lived with Moriko for ten years, I can hear about her latest escapades. She's insufferable, isn't she?"

Russ took a breath. This was why this would be hard. "…No, she's fine, but actually I think your parents are harassing her."

"What? Why? No, actually, they're harassing _me_ now that she's gone—all of a sudden I'm getting all these worried emails and demands to check on her and to pass along messages and where I am and when I'm coming home"—she threw up her hands—"it's always her, the brat, I just want some _peace_ —"

"…Are you sure it's her that's the problem?"

"Yes?"

"Listen, I'm sorry that's happening—Ange, we, a pokémon ranger spoke with us the other day because someone reported that she'd stolen her pokémon."

" _Did_ she steal a pokémon?" Angela asked, arms folded and head cocked.

"Ange! No! Look, I know you guys didn't get along—"

" _She_ never—"

"Can you please ask your parents to leave her alone? We've run into rangers so many times, I'm worried that—"

"Uh, I think rangers are probably investigating her for a good reason—"

"No, no, it's been a coincidence, I think, it's been for different things—we saw—we saw a murdered kid in Tsugaru Park—"

"You _what_?" Angela stared and took his hand. "Russ, _what_?"

Russ covered his eyes; he could still see that appalling redness if he thought about it too hard. "…It was bad. It was really bad."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Russ." She hugged him again. "Why don't you come with us? It sounds unsafe—"

"No, thank you, sorry, I have to stay with Moriko and Matt. Keep them out of trouble. You know?"

"You have to quit picking up strays, Russ," Ange said, and she mock-swatted him. "Look, I'll send Mom and Dad a message, but I don't think it was them. They're parents, they're worried about us—"

" _Please_ , Ange. It would mean a lot to me."

"For you I will do this," she said sternly, and smiled. "Take it easy, okay? We're staying at a cute little bed and breakfast, I'll send you the address. Come see us after dinner if you want to chat more? See you on the beach!"

x.x.x.x.x

The three of them regrouped after dinner. Matt had won several battles and seemed to be in a better mood than usual, and he treated them to fresh cherries from a market vendor on the way to Prof. Alder's.

Alder had a small first-floor apartment with a yard on the edge of the old town in a gentrified area. Matt called her on his pokédex to let them into the fenced complex.

She was a little old lady, short and round with pointed face under the wrinkles. She was sitting out on the porch smoking a long-stemmed pipe, and the fragrant smoke was drifting down the street in the evening air. A massive torterra dozed in the yard, its pillar legs covered in stony scales and its shell-top tree twisting and gnarled.

Prof. Alder studied the three of them as they approached.

"Hello, Prof. Alder," Matt said, "I'm Matthew Reyes. It's good to meet you in person."

"You're right on time. Are these your friends?"

Moriko and Russ introduced themselves, and they all sat down with the professor. A mushroom-like beheeyem glided out of the house levitating a tray of sweet teas with ice, and departed just as smoothly after setting them down on the cast iron table.

"I admit I was confused and intrigued by your questions, Matthew," Prof. Alder said, after they'd all taken a few sips of tea. "You should know that when you contact a professor, you're most likely to see a response to very specific and well-posed questions, but now and again I will answer queries that are less-so, if they interest me." She looked at Matt, her eyes glittering. "What are you leaving out?"

Moriko frowned at this. Russ's face was politely blank, but when she glanced at Matt she saw that his color was high, his jaw clenched.

 _Lying to a professor, Matt?_

"Apologies," Matt said shortly. "I have... difficulty putting it into words," he managed, and the muscles on his neck and arms were as tight as bridge cables.

Prof. Alder took a long draw of the pipe. "Your other question was easier to answer, though perhaps hopelessly broad," she said. "What, exactly, do you want to know about the people of the second crossing?"

"Everything," Matt said, and you could hear the hunger in his voice. "On the internet I can only find vague accounts and racist assumptions, just-so stories by armchair anthropologists and tall tales by crossing war veterans. I'm—half-second crossing, but my mom wouldn't tell me anything, I want to meet with them, speak with elders—the young ones, they, we, they don't always care—"

Prof. Alder drew out her researcher's pokédex, tablet-sized and delicate. "Show me your 'dex," Alder said. She looked at Russ and Moriko. "You can join in too, if you want," she added, and shortly their three pokédexes in red, green, and gray were on the table.

"You're all over eighteen? Good, I'll give you a provisional academic access key—you can check out two university-level texts a day with this. That will give you more access to history and scholarship."

"Ah—I need to do my own reading," Matt said, faintly abashed.

"I'm too old to help undergrads," Prof. Alder said primly. "Start with the highest-rated textbook."

Matt scrolled faster and faster, his eyes poring over the titles in the academic library. "Thank you," he remembered to say.

"That won't be everything, of course. Prof. Blackwood is the leader of the team putting together what we hope is an accurate history of the second crossing era, as complete as we can make it. Much of the history was oral, or in code, and the readers have been lost through accidents or spite. And the clans all had their own biases. Somewhere beyond rumor and legend is the truth."

"Do you know where I could... meet elders, meet people who know the history?"

"Up north, most likely. Try Sunset Village or the Passage. You could talk to second crossing or half kids, too—there are plenty around in town, and their teachers. Not all of them are disinterested."

"Thank you."

"And anything from you two?" Prof. Alder asked Moriko and Russ.

"Why the tree names?" Moriko blurted out.

Prof. Alder grinned. "You are speaking even now with Prof. Alder I, the original, the fossil. I was there when it started. Terrible idea—like many pointless things it turned deadly serious. All kinds of nasty little backbites over who gets what name when they graduate, fights and bribes and bets. I'm surprised no-one's been knifed over it yet. That we know of."

Russ coughed. "I heard that the professors' organization will come after people with tree last names?"

"Poor young Samuel Oak. We thought we were being clever there. It's his family name—but then _concerned citizens_ went after the rest of his family for misusing his designation. Feh. I heard he and his family moved to some tiny town to escape the busybodies.

"The P3O can pursue those who misrepresent themselves as pokémon professors as a civil matter. It's a protected profession because there's a great deal of trust placed in us—there was a fairly serious case in the fifties where someone posed as a professor in a remote region to get close to kids and teenagers through starter distribution."

They all winced at that.

"I thought rapists couldn't keep pokémon?" Matt asked baldly. "Where did that person get pokémon to distribute?"

"Pokémon will abandon trainers that torture or murder, but they're as vulnerable as anyone else to subtler violence, grooming, and intimidation," Prof. Alder explained. "They aren't like the creeps in films, pokémon-less and ugly. You can train a pokémon or a human being to accept appalling treatment over time."

Russ frowned sadly. "Why didn't they tell someone? Why didn't their pokémon defend them?"

"Oh, they did, when it got bad enough. Pokémon are all prey animals, fundamentally; this one or that one may wear a cat's shape but unlike the animal they can be devoured by mice just as easily as the reverse. Pokémon will keep their trainers' secrets, even as those secrets fester," Prof. Alder said, looking sharply at Matt, who shook his head slightly.

The professor blew out smoke and looked sagely and dragonlike in the dim light. "I can only answer questions by the letter, Mr. Reyes. If you need someone to answer a question that is unsaid, or secret, or one that lies in the heart or the eye, you must consult a pokémon mystic, not a pokémon professor."

Matt's face was carefully blank, and he nodded. "Thank you for your time, Prof. Alder."

"Good luck, Mr. Reyes. I hope you find what you seek."

"What _are_ you looking for, Matt?" Moriko asked, when they were further down the road.

"Knowledge." He glanced at her. "Unlike some."

"I know how to ask a question without wasting a professor's time, at least," she snapped.

He ignored that. "This is the first step," he said, looking at his pokédex.

Moriko stretched, annoyed. Well, if Matt wanted to know about the past, that was fine. She was looking toward the future; she wasn't interested in all the sins people left behind them. There were too many.

x.x.x.x.x

Liona the nigriff was in poor spirits, resolutely looking at the ground and not the noisy, overwhelming city and enclosed buildings. Moriko brought the pokémon to a practice area and had Liona spar with Tarahn. She struggled with fighting on the ground—airborne she'd have better mobility, but take double damage from electricity—and then dealt the raigar a very smart revenge attack that sent him skidding backward.

Moriko praised her and the other pokémon did too, and afterward the nigriff looked more comfortable sitting among them.

"Are you happier today?" Tarahn asked her. Moriko had retrieved discarded cardboard out of the recycling for him, and he was running his claws down it eagerly.

Liona picked a little at the cardboard with her talons. "I am happy to be in a pride again. It was lonely." Her ears drooped and she put her head down on her forelegs.

"Your sibling," Maia rumbled.

"The human rangers will kill him. I know—I know! I know what he did. But…"

"If someone killed my trainer I would not rest until I killed them," Maia said, her head high and her fins the color of sunset. "I would make of my body a blade and follow them to the ends of the earth. I would follow them to other worlds where they say pokémon cannot live. I would follow them into the next life and the next, and I would kill them again and again without rest until the world ends."

Liona shivered. "He didn't kill _your_ trainer," she said, sulky.

"Luckily for him."

"What good is a trainer, anyhow?"

"Opportunity. Power. Vision. You will appreciate the second pair of eyes when you see how battles are run with humans. The ball protects, and the healing machine means anything is survivable. You will see the lengths that we go to."

"Why? What good is it?"

"How do you think I became strong?" Maia said, as commanding as an empress. "We have no sources, no territory. I have never stolen energy nor killed for it. We battle as much as we like, and we face others just as strong or stronger. In the wild you scrabbled for scraps, and here we feast every day."

Liona whistled suddenly, angry. "Why? Why did he—he said it was the only way! It was pointless!"

The tibyss looked at her, interested. "You don't know why?"

"No! He told me to—wait, to wait here or there, and then he would come back covered in blood."

"Do you want to find out why?"

"Maybe, yes."

"Enough to experiment?"

"To—no!" The nigriff put her ears back. "I will not do what he did!"

"Good. We have no quarrel. You are well rid of him," Maia said. "He was a murderer and a fool."

"I know, but... I want my brother. I want him back." Liona looked away.

Tarahn pushed some of his cardboard toward her.

Maia's tail rippled once. "I don't know how to get him. You could ask."

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko sat on the edge of the cot, taking off her hiking boots. The bunk above her creaked as Matt shifted around.

"It looks like there are doors in here that lead down into sub-basements and tunnels that stretch from building to building," Matt said conversationally, apparently to her.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I just found a site with crappy paint-program maps. People use them as makeout spots or to smoke or drink." He snickered. "Not everyone is on a journey or badge quest to actually train pokémon. Some people are just out to get laid."

Moriko snorted. "None of my business as long as it isn't in this room." She looked out at the rows of cots and hanging curtains. "Yech."

"There are a few corners that looked suggestive, to my eye. That's all a pokémon journey is, really—it's a test. A rite of passage. Sometimes it's not really about the monster battling."

She stood up, pulling on her sweatshirt, and she peeked over the top bunk railing at him. "Which is it for you?"

Matt's mouth quirked, but he sighed with surprising feeling. "Just the monster battling."

"Moriko?"

She turned in surprise to see Liona coming in from the exercise yard.

"Hi Liona, ready for bed?"

The nigriff looked wistful for a moment and then shook herself. "I want my brother," she said sternly. "I will not battle until I see him. Take me to him."

Moriko winced and tried to think of something placating to say. When they'd left the rangers at Quarric Village, Liona's brother was to be transported to Thalassa Heights and the high tribunal under the strictest security. He would be euthanized, unless something went awry with all the evidence the rangers had already gathered. It was what happened to killer pokémon; it was what pokémon would do in the wild when one of their own had a taste for blood.

But Liona hadn't had a chance to say goodbye.

"I guess I could try to ask for Ranger-Captain Grouse again…"

The captain had wanted Moriko to adopt Liona, and perhaps she'd take a call about the nigriff's well-being, arrange something to reassure her.

"You can take a ferry from here to Thalassa Heights," Matt said quietly.

Liona looked between the two of them. "Really?"

Moriko nodded; Liona's hopeful face didn't completely erase her dread at seeing that caligryph again, but it was a near thing. "I'll try to take you to him, if you really want to. But I can't… I can't help him escape. I won't."

Liona's ears and wings were drooping. "I know. He was… wrong. But I want to see him."

x.x.x.x.x

The pokémon ranger office in Porphyry was quiet, with more dim offices than active rangers, and a gray-muzzled wintris sleeping in the foyer. The police station was probably busier, dealing with theft and minor injuries, while the rangers were off in the wild.

Moriko asked to be connected with Ranger-Captain Grouse, relaying the story of the caligryph in the mountains. A couple of rangers went with her to scan her ID and pokéballs, and they stopped short when Liona came up on the scan. There was considerably more in her file than in Rufus or Tarahn's.

"This is a killer pokémon," one of the rangers said to her, half in disbelief.

"She's not—that was her sibling," Moriko said quickly. "Ranger-Captain Grouse asked me to adopt her. I wanted to check in with her."

"We will verify that. In the meantime, as far as I'm concerned, you're trafficking killer pokémon."

Moriko stared at him. "I'm what?"

She felt weak, withering under the pokémon rangers' serious gazes. Like a punch in the gut she imagined how she looked to them—half-second crossing, dealing in illegal pokémon. Was the accusation of theft still there?

"That's not… that is not even in _sight_ of being true," Moriko managed to say.

The other ranger was scrolling through her pokédex log, as Lieutenant Lecce had in Verdure Town. "Do you have a mentor we can get a reference from?" she asked, more businesslike.

"Prof. Willow. Of Port Littoral. Well of Coral Knoll, it's a suburb, her contact is—" she babbled.

"We'll look it up on her public page," the male ranger said. "Why don't you take a seat while we call her?"

Moriko sat down on a folding chair, her eyes flicking toward the door. She briefly entertained the thought of telling Liona to run, like in a movie. But there was no way she'd be able to outrun trained ranger pokémon, flyers that could hit Mach numbers or deception specialists that could make you walk straight into their hands.

They called Prof. Willow on a big video phone, and the magnemite icon buzzed a few times—too many times—

"Port Littoral Research Center, Professor Adeline Willow speaking."

Moriko exhaled. The professor was in her usual outfit—was it a weekday? She couldn't remember—the white lab coat and lavender blouse, and her halo of curly blonde hair filled up the screen.

"We'd like to speak with you about a character reference for one of your protégées."

"Of course."

"Is this person known to you: woman, average height, brown skin, green hair, orange eyes—"

"Moriko Sato is one of my students, yes," Prof. Willow said smoothly.

"We have reason to believe that she is in possession of a killer pokémon. Trafficking dangerous pokémon—"

"Are we talking about the same person? What is her explanation?"

"That she adopted the sibling of a killer pokémon at the request of one of our captains, I believe."

" _That_ sounds more like Moriko. She's a shy person with a deep empathy and kindness for pokémon." Moriko blushed. "If she did capture a killer pokémon, it would be by accident, and if discovered would turn it over to the ranger corps. Which captain?"

"Ranger-Captain Grouse, Professor."

"Why didn't you call them first? Either they were there and can confirm all this or they weren't and the game is up," Prof. Willow said sharply. "Hop to it."

"Ma'am," the ranger said, and cut the call. A few minutes later he had Grouse on video, a little bleary-eyed with her iron-colored hair curling out from underneath her orange cap, who corroborated Moriko's story in harsher terms.

The male ranger's color was up, annoyed. "With all due respect, sir, the documentation clearly—"

"What doc—ah, I see it." The ranger-captain's eyes flicked over Liona's file. "Shit. Kekoa!" she said over her shoulder. "Sync the files from Quarric Village! …No they didn't, the kid who caught our killer bird just got stopped and frisked in Porphyry!" Grouse looked back into the camera. "My bad. Wait for the new file to confirm, but the nigriff is clean."

"Sir."

"Wait—Captain Grouse—" Moriko said, throwing herself into view.

"Hello, Moriko, how are things going aside from my juniors trying to steal your pokémon?"

"It's—no problem—Captain Grouse, Liona, the nigriff really needs to see her brother again. Where is he? Where are you?"

Her expression softened. "I really don't recommend that. Pokémon heal from this kind of separation quickly—"

"Please, she's really miserable, I think she needs a chance to talk with him! She didn't get to say goodbye. You know?"

The captain sighed, thinking. "Come to Thalassa Heights, and I'll help her get a last look. Please do not attempt any kind of jailbreak. You will fail miserably and it will be hilarious, but more time-consuming for me than hilarious, which will not put me in a good mood."

"I wouldn't—I mean, I was there, Captain Grouse. I looked into his eyes."

"That you did. Technically you did me two favors. I will grant you this one. See you on Thalassa."

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko called Prof. Willow from her pokédex when it was all finished. She flinched a little when Willow's face appeared on the screen, but the professor's face instantly lit up upon seeing her.

"Prof. Willow—thank you so much."

"Moriko! Of course, not a problem. I hope you don't take that to heart, sometimes rangers jump to conclusions, but they have the best intentions—I hope you weren't scared by my professor voice!" She laughed.

"No, not at all, it was kind of cool, actually. Thank you for helping me. I just… I don't understand why they thought that, like who would ever…"

"Some people…" Prof. Willow's face on the phone flickered. "Some people deliberately try to catch killer pokémon."

"…Why?" Moriko's head whirled at that. Normal pokémon were enough of a handful; Tarahn had given her injuries, playfully, accidentally, that had needed regen. To deliberately catch a ronin, a pokémon that would kill, a pokémon that wouldn't take orders…?

Prof. Willow looked offscreen. "You can use a pokémon to intimidate or threaten—all but the sweetest, gentlest pokémon love it, to be honest. That kind of pecking-order shakedown happens all the time in the wild. They'll battle, and they'll defend themselves or a trainer with deadly force, but to instigate it… Most pokémon will balk if you tell them to deliberately attack someone. They'll abandon you if you try to force them. But there are pokémon that will do it. Pokémon that will torture or kill, and have fun doing it. That kind of pokémon is, thankfully, rare, but in the right hands it is a powerful and terrifying weapon."

Moriko thought of the evil pokémon in movies and video games: ronin that a hero would have to slay, lone and insane pokémon crawling with strange diseases, malign legendaries. "It must be more trouble than it's worth?"

"The kinds of people looking for such a thing usually don't mind a little collateral damage, or have illegal ways of subduing pokémon." Prof. Willow pressed her lips together. "Or they're a kindred spirit. A killer pokémon is… well, we like to think that someone like that is insane, but they can be quite rational. It might partner with a human to meet its goals like any other pokémon. It's an accident waiting to happen, of course."

Moriko was silent for a few breaths. "Thanks, Professor. Thanks for defending me."

"I know you, Moriko. And frankly I think they were giving a teenager too much credit." She winked.

Moriko smiled crookedly.

x.x.x.x.x

The boat scudded over the waves, jouncing Moriko in her seat and leaving her feeling decidedly unwell, but the sickness disappeared as Thalassa Isle came into view. It was actually two islands, bisected by a narrow strait, with severe, vertical rock walls down to the ocean. There was some fishing and ocean traffic, but for the most part it was quiet and shuttered, preparing for the regional tournament and elite challenges at the end of the summer. This was where the Elite Four met challengers in Gaiien: Dragut and Aria, Lapis and Titania, and the champion Faraday.

Thalassa was built to impress, with statues of heroes and legendaries in white marble and titanium nitride glittering gold, all towering over visitors. Vermilion pillars and bridges linked islands separated by curated streams full of ornamental plants and colorful fish. Above them was the elites' tower, looming over its surrounding arenas. It was smaller than the grounds at, say, Indigo Plateau, but it had been uniformly designed and constructed, unlike the historied sprawl of the facility in Kanto.

The arenas were empty and echoing before the tournaments, and past them was the administrative village. Here there was activity: rangers and suited employees walked from building to building, strolling or intent on errands.

The building that Grouse had directed her to had a body scanner at the entrance, with guards and psychic pokémon, and even a virtual-type hexatron darting in and out of unfamiliar electronics. Nervous and forgetting all the metal items she carried, she set off the scanner and had to try again. The hexatron beeped at her encouragingly when she finally got through.

Visitor badge firmly applied, she met Captain Grouse in a lobby and was shown through to the elevators. Another ranger came with them, and Grouse's key card got them access to a lower level.

It was cool and dry, hospital-like with the smell of antiseptic and faintly blue lighting. Rooms and doors flew by—Moriko caught a glimpse of soldiers with guns and anti-pokémon devices at the end of an intersecting hallway—and finally they came to a room where the killer caligryph was held.

He was in a shield bubble like before, a powerful one with automated defenses. Electronic eyes tracked them as they came in. The caligryph rose, seeing them.

Moriko released Liona, and she looked small in the room, the release mechanism muted. The nigriff hesitated; Moriko rubbed her shoulder and she shook herself, walking forward toward the shield.

"Do you keep him in here?" Moriko asked Grouse, looking at the bare walls and confined space of the bubble.

"No, he has a virtual environment. This is just for viewing."

"Latna," Liona was saying. "I—"

"You betrayed me," the caligryph hissed.

The nigriff's ears went back.

Latna lunged at the shield; there was no sound but the strike of his body against it. "It was supposed to be you! They caught you!"

Liona flinched away, wings half-spread as she retreated. "What?"

"And you—" He was looking at Moriko. "You were the last! I needed one more! You were supposed to go to the god! And then—and then—"

Moriko felt sick, watching him scrabble against the glass like a trapped insect. Liona was shaking.

"Add that to his file," Grouse muttered to the tech behind her.

"You… you wanted…" Liona whispered.

"You wanted Liona to take the fall for you?" Moriko demanded. "Where were you going to _go_? Killing people didn't even do anything except land you here."

"Power! Power untold, a gift for a gift!" The caligryph jammed his claws against the shield. "It—was—promised!"

Moriko shook her head. Some trickster had persuaded him to do this, maybe. She pitied the caligryph, despite her fear: he'd been alone and desperate, with Liona to care for.

Well, if he'd actually ever cared about his sibling. Perhaps it had been one-sided. She looked at the nigriff, who looked worse than ever and was making hurt crying noises.

"Liona, do you want to go? I'm sorry—I didn't know—"

Liona turned her back on the bubble. "Take me away," she whispered.

Moriko recalled her.

"You did me another favor," Grouse said, as they were taking the elevator back up. "That was a useful confession of intent from him."

Moriko shrugged. "I don't know if that did any good for Liona. I'm not sure if I should have come. I feel weird about… helping you execute him. Even though he wanted to kill me."

Ranger-Captain Grouse was silent a moment. "We don't execute them very often anymore, actually. We study them. He has a long, long life ahead of him," she said.

"…So, what, you experiment on them?"

"Yeah. Well, not so much the tanks and tubes and needles you're probably imagining. They get enrichment and activities, and the studies are usually in the form of games. Positive reinforcement. Something… changes in a killer pokémon. We don't know if they're born or made. We want to find out."

Moriko thought of Prof. Willow's explanation. "So you can make more?"

Grouse barked a laugh. "Lord, I hope not. To persuade the existing ones that they don't have to kill. The ones that like it—eventually they see the needle and the winnower, probably."

Moriko looked behind them. "Are there more killer pokémon in there? Do you keep them all together? Didn't you ever see Heist 54?"

Grouse laughed again. "Based on a true story. No, we learned our lesson after that. They're scattered all over. The killer pokémon that were stolen then… most of them are still around, traded between criminal gangs, djinni you can let out of a bottle to happily do humans' dirty work. We think Team Rocket used Tsar Bomba to assassinate a rival leader a couple of years ago. We can't prove it wasn't a gas explosion. The auras were fucked up by the time we got there."

They'd reached the doors leading out of the building. Moriko looked back again; she remembered that attack. She'd seen some ugly uncensored photos on imageboards: pulverized concrete, cars blown to shrapnel, people with missing limbs, fountaining blood and hasty tourniquets.

"…Are you sure you shouldn't execute them?" she heard herself say.

Ranger-Captain Grouse took Moriko's visitor badge. "A question that we ponder endlessly. Good day, Moriko. Let me know if you or your friends need our help again."

Moriko wandered out into the sunlight. She picked Liona's pokéball again.

"I wish that had gone better," she said quietly, and put it back on her belt.

There wasn't much to see between tournaments. Moriko passed a gift shop stuffed with fan merchandise and pokémon plushies, gewgaws and knickknacks commemorating the upcoming season or famous previous ones. No wild pokémon, either, unless there was some way to get down to the water that wasn't a sheer cliff. She headed for the ferry stand to wait for the evening ride back to the mainland.

"Leaving so soon?"

Moriko turned and stared: there was a shiny tibyss behind her, cherry and aquamarine, and beyond it was Dragut of the Elite Four. He was incredibly good-looking, with glowing brown skin, luscious, long black ringlets, and genehan blue eyes.

He also, somehow, looked amazing in the elaborate pirate costume he was wearing with all its lace and ruffles. Water-type was his specialty; it was all part of the performance.

"I—have to get back. My friends," she stammered.

"Of course. Porphyry's badge?"

"Yup! I mean. I haven't done it yet. We're training." _Oh gods._

"Good luck!" Dragut said. "Belladonna can be… a bit of a handful." He winked roguishly, twirling his moustache. "Don't let her push you around. What do you think of the island?"

"It's great! I hope I… I hope I make it to the tournament. Feels kind of unlucky being here early, though. You know?"

"I'll tell you a secret," Dragut said, with the air of pulling out a doubloon from behind someone's ear. "How many times do you think I was here before I got the badges?"

"I'm guessing, not never?"

"I lived here for a year, training with the old elites as an acolyte. I knew all the ins and outs of Thalassa, and then I did the gym circuit, and I came back here and aced the tournament. Ten years later they called me back to take the elite position. Knowledge is power. Never hesitate to use it, or any other trick." His eyes sparkled. "Will I see you at the tournament in August?"

She blushed. "Probably not. We'll be too late to get the eighth badge, even if everything goes right."

"Right, Polaris's badge." He turned, looking away to the northeast; Sastruga Fjord was that way, a long boat journey distant. "We need to fix that. We already make you kids wait so long."

Moriko smiled ruefully. "Yeah, it's kind of annoying seeing thirteen-year-olds with three or four badges from Hoenn or whatever sometimes. I feel really behind," she blurted out, "I should have gone to an academy if I was really serious about battling—"

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen," she said, reluctantly.

"An infant," the tibyss said, gravelly.

"You have _so_ much time, Miss—?"

"Uh, Moriko."

"Miss Moriko, you have so much time. You are going to learn so much in these next few years, I promise. This isn't a sport where it all stops at middle age. It gets better! Take your time. Learn about this beautiful world. Power you can get in a summer by hitting it hard, but mastery comes with time and new experiences. Free advice." Dragut looked down at himself, as if realizing that he was in his elite outfit. "Yarr," he added, and saluted and moved off, trailed by the shiny tibyss.

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko let the pokémon out on the ferry to sit in the sun as it went down. Liona put herself near the prow and didn't move even as she was hit by spray, and she got wetter and more bedraggled-looking as they went.

"Aren't you getting cold? Come on back and sit by Rufus."

Liona sighed. "I am a fool. I should throw myself in the ocean."

Moriko crouched by her and weathered some spray herself. "Don't think about him. He betrayed _you_. He was supposed to take care of you and he didn't, and then he tried to frame you. He's dead to you."

"Where am I going to go?" Liona asked, despairing.

"You can stay with me. Or if you don't like me we can find you someone else. You don't have to do anything if you don't want to. You don't have to battle, even. It doesn't cost me anything to have you along. I want to be friends with you. And if it doesn't work out I'll try to find you a friend."

The nigriff looked at Moriko, appraising. "You are kind. What do you get out of it?"

"I'm a pokémon trainer. Either I get to train you, or I just get to keep you and be kind to you. I wouldn't be a trainer if I didn't like doing that."

"Why would you want some idiot who couldn't even see _that_ coming?" Liona asked, jerking her head at the island receding behind them. "Gods, it's so obvious."

Moriko thought of her aunt belittling her, controlling her, and that day that it all escalated so fast. "I let people hurt me too. I… lost people, too. I won't pretend that I know exactly… but maybe we're in the same boat."

Liona watched her. "We _are_ on the same boat, Moriko," she said, confused.

x.x.x.x.x

It was sunset when they disembarked again back at Porphyry. Moriko felt wrung-out and exhausted, which was bizarre, since she'd barely walked anywhere. She was looking forward to a late dinner and bed.

"Hey! Hey Moriko!"

She turned. It was Angela.

Her cousin approached cautiously; there was a strange readiness to her stance, like she expected a blow. She was dressed well, nice hair, nice makeup. Moriko was suddenly aware of her limp clothes, dirty, sweat-soaked. She watched Angela, just waiting for whatever it was.

"I talked to Russ," Angela said, abrupt. "He said you guys found a… body. Someone who'd been murdered."

Moriko sighed. "Are you going to accuse me of doing it?"

Angela held herself tightly, a little of the—what, fear?—replaced by anger. "No, I wanted—why do you always—I'm trying to talk to you normally and you go for the worst thing!"

"Because it's always the worst thing. It's always me and something I'm doing wrong."

"You—look. We were thinking about going home after this gym. The ranger boards are just warning after warning. It's not just… what you found, it's all kinds of places. Maybe you should go home too. It was a good run."

"Cool, see you back in Littoral."

"Really?"

"No."

"Moriko—" Angela's voice arced. "Why are you always like this? I'm trying to help, trying to give you a warning, trying to be friendly—"

"By confronting me and telling me to go home?"

"It's just badges for the godssake—"

She always tried to feel nothing in these arguments, but the anger bubbled up. "That I'd been looking forward to! For months, years even! Why—why are _you_ doing this journey? You never planned on it, all your gear is brand new—"

"I don't need your permission, it's an open league—I wanted to take a trip and get a couple of badges before university starts, see the sights."

"Copying me."

"Now you sound like a fourth-grader. Mom suggested I go with Vic, and then the boys thought it would be fun to do, too—what?"

Moriko's face had probably turned ghastly—of course Rachel had put Angela up to it, tried to one-up Moriko's planning with new-bought supplies and an expensive item storage device, when her attempts to sabotage Moriko's journey had failed.

"I'm not going home. This is something I get to do for once, and you—your mom—just, stop. Stop playing games with me. How do I even know you're going home?"

" _You're_ the one who plays head games, Mom always said—"

" _She_ plays—"

"And when have you ever not done what you wanted? I always had to hear you starting fights with her when I was trying to study or enjoy some time alone—why were you around if you hated us so much?"

"Because when I finally left she _hit me_ and tried to steal my savings! Of course it took time to work up to leave!"

"You're always lying! You're always lying and starting fights and exaggerating, and making up problems, like, did you really see a dead kid? Or were they just hurt—"

"We saw a murder victim, Angela," Moriko said, cold. "It was not mistakable."

Angela stared at her, her lip curling. "And now Mom is going after _me_! Now she's sending me all these emails about school and my stuff back at home, how she's going to throw it away if I don't come home, and it's your fault—"

"What does she _want_? She never wanted me there and now she wants me back? What do _you_ want?"

Angela started to say something and then didn't.

Moriko blew out her breath. "Is that it?"

"No," Angela said, and she tossed down a pokéball, revealing a flareon, Phoebus. "Let's battle."

Sometimes you had to say it with your fists. She went for Tarahn's pokéball.

The raigar appeared and scratched himself. "Hey Phoebus, howzit?"

"You know, the usual." The flareon waggled a paw.

"Flamethrower, Phe!"

"Toxic."

Tarahn hacked up a clot of poison that the flareon torched out of the air before turning the beam on him. Tarahn grunted, scorched, following up with a thunder wave. Phoebus' muscles seized for a moment, and the raigar darted up close, raking the flareon's sides in a poison claw attack.

"Furnace!"

Tarahn swore, backing off, as Phoebus' fur flared with heat, and the raigar aimed a thunderbolt at him. The responding flamethrower passed through it, both attacks connecting. Phoebus shot in with a quick attack, and Tarahn yowled, burnt by contact.

"Encore!"

Tarahn slapped his paws together and Phoebus was forced to quick attack erratically, shooting from position to position between the two trainers, but Tarahn couldn't hit him either, his thunderbolts missing by fractions of a second.

"Ah, shoot," Moriko muttered.

"Yeah," Tarahn agreed.

Phoebus broke the encore effect, but he was panting. "That's enough for me," he said. "Good to see you, Tarahn."

"Likewise, take it easy, Phe."

The flareon hopped back into his pokéball. Angela watched, annoyed, as Moriko recalled Tarahn as well.

"Well? Aren't you going to gloat?" Angela asked angrily.

"No? Angela, just… I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear from you. Tell your mom to leave me alone. Hell, tell her to leave _you_ alone."

"Yeah? You want her to swan dive off the fucking handle at me?"

"Whatever, I guess."

Angela dashed angry tears out of her eyes. "Why were you even here? We were happy before you came!"

Moriko turned around and left, half-running. They always escalated. They always brought out the knives, old and expected ones, and despite everything they still stung, they cut to the fucking bone.

 _We were happy when_ I _was there, too, for a little while._ She couldn't remember when that had changed.

x.x.x.x.x

"How did it go?" Russ asked her. He saw it in her face, she guessed, because he hugged her. "Not great, huh?"

"It was kind of fucked up." She rubbed her eyes and sniffed. "I saw Angela on the way here, too. Fuck."

"I'm sorry, Moriko."

She shook her head. "It could be a lot worse," she said, thinking of Liona's brother in his virtual prison, raging about death and strange gods. "It could be a hell of a lot worse."

"Also, you're not going to like this, but we're going to get up at four to get in line for the gym sign-up."

Moriko groaned.

"Russ?" Matt's voice came from their bunk.

"Yeah?"

"Uh, your egg is hatching."

They raced in; there was a distinct pale-gray glow in the room and an open pokéball on Russ's cot, and the egg.

Pokémon eggs didn't precisely hatch. Moriko remembered the class they'd all had to take on pokémon reproduction; she'd been prepared to smother giggles, but the whole process for pokémon was far less messy than for animals. Two pokémon, a major and a minor parent, put energy together to create a protoform, an egg. And after it had absorbed enough energy it would evolve into its next stage.

The egg was glowing white, and it started to shift its shape into limbs, and a head and a tail. After a moment, the infant pokémon was left behind, the light fading.

 _Celestiule, the messenger pokémon. A light- and dark-type, it is a hybrid produced by a nimbval and a grimass parent. They are rare to see because the parents' natures are often inimical. Its appearance reflects the current sky conditions, and will change with the time of day and weather._

It was the deep velvety black of the night sky, dotted with stars like tiny diamonds glittering on its hide. Its eyes were white and opalescent, and it raised its head to look at them. A foal, perfectly formed and lovely.

"Hi there," Russ said, speaking in his gentlest voice. He put out his hand carefully for the celestiule to smell.

Newborn pokémon were highly precocial, they'd always heard: they learned from their mothers and they learned in the egg, so within weeks they'd be able to—

"How dull," the minutes-old pokémon said.

x.x.x.x.x


	10. Royal City

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! There's an illustration of scorplion and mantigore up on my tumblr or deviantart, **gaiienpokedex**.

Chapter 9

 _Royal City / Belladonna / Cousins / Drowning_

 _—July 12th, 128 CR_

"It's called echolalia," Prof. Willow said. The video call stuttered and resumed. "They hear things in the egg and repeat them meaninglessly. One of my peers in grad studies cared for an igglybuff egg while he was practicing a seminar, and when it hatched it recited bits of the talk for a few weeks."

"I understand. Thank you, Prof. Willow. It was a little unnerving!"

"No, it absolutely is—protein expression markers aren't quite as dry when they're being recited by balloon staring at you at night."

Russ laughed. "Sorry to bother you."

"Call me anytime, I'd rather you contact me for nothing than fail to for something. Have you called your mom lately?"

" _Thanks_ , professor, I better go."

The celestiule had been silent after that first unnerving pronouncement. ' _How dull_ '. Duller than the egg? Now it was acting like a baby pokémon should: smelling everything, chewing on blankets, sleeping most of the time.

Russ looked outside; Matt's ursaring had shown his fatherly side and was dozing with it in the exercise yard. The other pokémon had been curious, approaching carefully one at a time to smell and touch it carefully, even other trainers' pokémon, who could be standoffish toward pokémon outside their group.

The celestiule was beautiful, eye-catching with its changing, sky-reflecting hide and pearly eyes and mane. He'd held off on naming it, knowing that sometimes baby pokémon would suggest their own names when they began to speak, but privately he was thinking about 'Celeste'.

x.x.x.x.x

Matthew Reyes, Eosazhana's son, walked through the royal city.

 _This should have been yours_ , said one voice, and _It can still be_ , said the other.

He had had plans, once, grand and sweeping, in that confusing flavor of defiance and desperate desire to please that colored all his interactions with his mother. _Notice me! Notice me! Notice me!_ they all seemed to say, in true teenager fashion.

He couldn't escape it. Well, he'd been a teenager well after his allotted time.

A secret he couldn't utter, not even to the wind or the reeds. Maia didn't know; she had been a kitten when it happened, an ocean's width distant, but she knew something was wrong. Bjorn knew pieces; he'd been away, convalescent at the pokémon center. The others had left him, frustrated, traded away, abandoning him. Dead.

It could be worth it. It could all yet be worth it.

He felt sick for thinking it.

x.x.x.x.x

The gym was in the old town, on expensive real estate with a view of the ocean. It resembled an ancient amphitheater or, more appropriately, a gladiator arena. Stone pillars ringed the spectator seating, supporting trellises choked with flowering vines and shading the seats with cloth overhangs.

The battle area had the usual modern setup despite the building's apparent age: pale substrate, trainer platforms, boundary moat, energy shields, recording devices. There were people in the stands in anticipation of the next scheduled battle: adults chatting in the shade or enjoying the sun, kids running around and being annoying, young pokémon following them and screeching, vendors offering hot roasted nuts and ice cream. Now and then a wingull would drift overhead, gliding aimlessly, and insects and hummingbirds darted from flower to flower among the trellises.

The three of them had studied the arena for a moment before it became apparent that they were not about to be met by an attendant or receptionist. Matt, patience dwindling, stalked off along the perimeter of the amphitheater while Russell and Moriko trailed behind. Moriko couldn't blame him, for once: after the trouble they'd gone through to secure this appointment, standing in line for hours and fending off challengers who wanted to battle to move ahead, somebody at the facility had better look interested in keeping it.

The stone path was surrounded by dense flowering bushes and ornamental trees. As they went on they passed more and more poisonous flowering plants— _Bryonia, Acontium, Solanaceae_ —that Moriko guessed were part of a theme, this being the poison-type gym. Russ pointed them out; he had always been interested in plants, even before plant-type Sylvia, but soon they were passing species he'd never seen, not even in a book. Not all the regions had been fully explored, and the continents were different than on Terra: there were still plants to be discovered or properly described.

Matt soon found a gardener wearing thick work gloves and face protection against the plants, and was asking her where the gym leader was.

"Oh, I'm not sure…" she was saying. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Are you kidding? I can't believe this gym—"

The woman pulled off her mask and kerchief. Moriko recognized her from her headshot on the gym website.

Matt bit back whatever he was about to say.

"Good decision," Belladonna said, grinning. She was taller than Matt, with fuchsia hair and luminous green eyes.

The gym leader was looking between her and Matt. "Are you two half?"

Moriko stiffened. "Yeah, why?"

"Cousins!" she shouted, and hugged the two of them boisterously. "It is so good of you to come! Please, who are your people?"

Matt and Moriko stared at her, shocked.

"M-My…?" Moriko stammered.

"You _do_ have clans, don't you?" Belladonna looked between them, her excitement cooling as she saw their obvious ignorance and confusion. "Well, never mind. Ask your parents, I suppose. Show me your pokédexes."

They obliged, and she scanned their IDs. "Moriko Sato, were you just in Verdure Town?"

"Yes?"

Belladonna grinned again. "I heard your oxhaust beat Hawthorn's little thornlem. Good for you. I hate that he has those things. This way," she said, motioning them to follow her.

They took another path through the gardens; distantly they could hear the crowd in the arena. The plants were higher and closer here, disorienting, the path twisting and the gym leader striding swiftly and almost out of view.

"You hate the thornlem?" Moriko asked, hurrying after her.

"I don't hate them, I hate that _Hawthorn_ has them," Belladonna said over her shoulder. "He's the worst person to have them. They should have gone to Ironhelm, he's too fucked up on decker juice to do anything with them, and that would be a shade less infuriating."

"Why… shouldn't he have them?"

"A pokémon like that," Belladonna said passionately, "should belong to a queen. Pokémon won't torture or murder. A killer pokémon would, but good luck controlling it. The automata, though? They will do anything you say, and they don't need to eat or rest or think."

Moriko couldn't think of anything to say to that.

"We've been out of queens for a while," Matt said, an edge in his voice.

"That's the thing about queens," Belladonna said wistfully. "When you get rid of one, there's another waiting. The process is quite instantaneous."

"How do you _know_ they'll do anything?" Matt added.

Belladonna smiled back at them, feral.

The path forked. "Go down to the arena, I'll get dressed and get my pokémon," Belladonna said, directing them down one arm. "See you in a bit!"

"Sounds like she knows something about the second crossing," Russ said, as they went off.

"At this point I'm not sure I want to know," Matt said grimly.

x.x.x.x.x

Matt went down to the challenger's platform, and Russ and Moriko took seats nearby.

The gladiator pokémon from _New Dawn_ could have fought down below, blood and ichor flying. Moriko had always found that game cartoonishly violent, but she felt nervous thinking of it now. The sight of the dead trainer in Tsugaru intruded on her thoughts, and that of Latna the caligryph, yellow eyes in the twilight. She shivered.

The gym was _old_ underneath the modern trappings. She imagined the adepts of the second crossing squaring off with no shield to protect them, and no healing machine for afterward. You could pull back time in layers like paint or wallpaper and find the blood and the bones.

The buzz of sound from the crowd changed; Moriko looked down to see the referee emerge and take his place behind the monitoring equipment. Cheering followed, and Matt's head snapped around to watch as Belladonna appeared. She had changed into her gym leader's outfit, black highlighted with a pinkish-purple, and her arms and neck clattering like an exploded junk jewelry drawer.

Russ pulled out his pokédex, looking back and forth between it and the gym leader. "Ha, she's wearing porphyry," he said.

"Uh, the city?"

"It's actually a color; it used to be illegal for anyone to wear but the imperial family. Very expensive. Made of snails." He frowned. "Well, back then, at least. It probably comes out of a vat in industrial Sinnoh now."

"Single battle, two pokémon per trainer, no items, no time limit, switching allowed," the referee was saying.

Matt and Belladonna were nodding agreement. The gym leader's expression was… hungry.

The rules were always 'switches allowed', but hot switching was hard to pull off; the incoming pokémon would be vulnerable to a big hit upon reformation—

"Select your pokémon!"

A pokéball and a great ball spun into the ring. Tak appeared on the floor in a flash of blue light; he studied his surroundings, head twisting, as his opponent materialized across the field from him.

The vileplume was enormous, each petal swollen and shiny in the sunlight while its tiny eyes glinted underneath. Gloom that evolved too early were sometimes unable to support the ponderous weight of their petals as a vileplume and required physical therapy, but this one didn't resemble those shriveled specimens in the slightest.

"Trainers ready?" the referee called from the sidelines. "Begin!"

"Have at it," said Matt, folding his arms and relaxing his stance. "Watch out for spores."

Tak clacked his beak and ascended into the air, turning a few lazy loops before diving with a screech at the flower pokémon. The vileplume released a dense cloud of toxic spores that shimmered in the sun, and then aimed a stream of pale purple acid at its opponent.

The honchkrow dodged the acid easily, swooping away from the vileplume. He flapped his wings powerfully, trapping it in a whirlwind that spun its spores up into the air—and spread them throughout the arena. Chatter and sarcastic clapping sounded in the audience.

"Looks like you're going to have to get your feet wet," Matt commented, sounding amused.

Tak squawked something unintelligible, which was probably for the best, before arcing upward and streaking down again in a dive bomb attack. He angled under the spores, smacking into the vileplume and whisking away again. He was flying smoothly, probably not poisoned or paralyzed, while the vileplume looked a little less serene with one petal crushed and scratches oozing dark ichor. The partisan crowd roared their disapproval.

Tak swung around while the vileplume glowed, humming as it healed itself—but it traded the previously crushed petal for a new injury, the honchkrow's wing slashing it along its body.

Dodging another shot of acid, Tak struck the vileplume again, this time making it lose its balance and topple over. The instant of vulnerability gave the honchkrow an opening to launch into a scratching, pecking frenzy.

Belladonna's arm snapped out, and she recalled the vileplume. Moriko clenched one hand, watching. The gym leader had good reflexes; she hadn't let Tak really put his beak in. The vileplume could still be a threat if she brought it out again.

Matt smiled, satisfied, and Tak screeched happily.

And yet. Belladonna was grinning a little too broadly for someone who'd just had their first pokémon driven back decisively. "Not bad," she said, her first words the entire match. "Try this."

The ultra ball arced over the sand, revealing a winged shape; Tak swooped in for his free hit on the materializing pokémon.

It slapped the honchkrow out of the air and leapt on him, blood and black feathers flying, and it was Matt's turn to jerk out his hand in a quick-draw recall. The crowd cheered and whistled at the turnabout.

 _Mantigore, the maneater pokémon. Dark- and poison type, it evolves from scorplion near level forty. It lives deep in the desert, guarding oases and stalking opponents that come to drink. Its poison causes weakness and paralysis, and then it will strike with its claws and teeth._

It was a desert lion, thin and pale, with dark maroon bat's wings and a scorpion's tail and armor. The creature snarled, high and hissing, its jaws augmented by chelicerae.

"This one's a favorite," Russ murmured, tapping his pokédex. He and Matt had been looking at the _Battle Insider_ page for the gym.

The mantigore paced restlessly, glaring at Matt as if he'd robbed it of a treat.

Matt seemed to freeze, thinking, and as the seconds ticked by the referee raised a flag. "Challenger must select a pokémon."

Finally he blinked and shook himself, and tossed a pokéball out into the ring.

"Maia," he said.

The audience sighed as she appeared. The tibyss accentuated the mantigore's severity of form: it was ragged, parched, a scar on the sand, where she was water made flesh, flowing along the ground instead of walking.

It snarled, fur bristling, wings unfurling, the scorpion's tail rising to quiver in the air. Maia arched her neck and regarded it with cool, queenly disdain. _You fool_ , Maia's look seemed to say. _You are beneath my notice._

"Trainers may begin when ready."

"Ragemaw," said Belladonna, "sting cross."

The mantigore sprang into the air and circled around the ring to build up momentum before hurling itself at the tibyss. Fangs, claws and tail glistened with venom as it dove, wings unfurling at the last moment to blind and overwhelm—

Maia's ice shard hit it squarely, the fragments exploding out of the tibyss' mouth and slicing its face and wings. The mantigore screeched, rolling away in mid-air, and hit the ground ungracefully. As it righted itself, it hissed at her, and Maia raised her ruff, her expression identical to Matt's hauteur.

"Careful now," Russ muttered.

"Double team," ordered Belladonna. "Stay on the ground."

Ragemaw spat, annoyed, splitting into clones. Despite its ferocity, its deception skill was quite good: Moriko couldn't find a telltale mistake in the illusion, and Matt's frown of concentration suggested he couldn't either.

"Maia—"

"Crunch!"

The three clones leapt at Maia and she swept through them with an icy wind. They dissipated, but the real mantigore was on the outside—it had time to close on her and clamp its jaws where her neck met her shoulder.

"Maia!" Matt shouted.

Moriko found herself watching Matt, fascinated at that new note of fear in his voice, despite the action in the arena. She looked back: Ragemaw's claws and fangs were sunk into Maia's midnight blue hide and bioluminescent spots, its arachnid mouthparts delivering venom like a needle.

It swung its scorpion's tail at her throat. She grunted as the sting sank into her paw instead, raising it just in time.

Maia growled, low and threatening, as she shoved it away. The two feline pokémon slashed one another briefly, grit flying, and then Ragemaw caught her hard across the muzzle and she dropped her head, sidling away.

Matt made a choked noise that the mic barely picked up. He was leaning over the trainer box railing, nearly falling.

The mantigore gave a raspy cackle and crouched to leap.

An explosion of dirty water burst underneath Ragemaw, sending it spinning into the air. The moat drained, turbulent, as Maia dragged it into the arena to flood it. She stood in the water, drawing it around herself, watching her opponent.

The mantigore was recovering, righting itself. It wheeled in the air, coming around again. She fired off another ice shard—too slow—

Ragemaw landed hard in the water, sending up spray, paws splashing as it slashed at the tibyss. Her head dipped—

Maia froze it, spiderweb frost exploding outward along the surface of the water. The mantigore was soaked from the explosion; it froze too, locked into place. The tibyss snarled, a wave rearing up like a fist, and it washed over the mantigore, hardening instantly.

The crowd roared as she limped away, leaving Ragemaw encased in a shell of ice. It jerked its head and yowled.

Matt's smirk found its way back onto his face. He looked up at Belladonna, who stared back, eyes blazing.

"Finish him off, Maia."

Maia prepared a hydro pump, the sphere of water gathering in her open mouth. Her bio-lights glowed.

The mantigore struggled, cracks appearing along the surface of its shell—there had been an air bubble under its wings, and it had a little room to move them. It snarled, poison sting spikes shooting off its tail and freeing it.

With a wrench, it was free, and it shot at her.

The hydro pump hit it like a tank. It bounced twice before Belladonna's trainer platform finally arrested its motion.

Ragemaw struggled to its feet.

There were cheers and gasps. Moriko's hands flew to her mouth, childlike. _Maia!_

The mantigore spread its wings and staggered. With a sigh, it dropped limply onto the ground.

Moriko gathered breath to cheer and then cut it off. She stared agonizingly down at Belladonna; there was still the vileplume to contend with.

Belladonna was watching the mantigore as its body faded into energy, and finally she recalled it. She stood for a moment, thinking, and she looked out at Maia, bleeding, breathing hard, covered in cuts and envenomed punctures.

The tibyss looked back at her and raised her head, held her ruff high.

Belladonna nodded to the ref.

"Trainer Matthew is the winner!"

The crowd erupted with cheering and an undercut of booing from the diehards.

"Matt and Maia!" Russ shouted through his cupped hands.

Moriko clapped, whistling. She was never best pleased with Matt, but Maia deserved all the praise.

Matt jumped to the arena floor, skidding on the water. He rushed over to Maia and then slowed, putting his hands on her face with sudden delicacy and obvious affection. She bumped him with her nose, smearing his clothes with blood, and then she hopped back into her pokéball.

Matt left the ring, disappearing under the stands as he was waved over by one of the gym leader's acolytes, probably to use a healing machine for Maia's poisoning.

"Trainer Russell, please approach the challenger's platform."

Russell got up without a word, and made his way down to the arena. Moriko whistled at him, and he waved without turning around.

His first pick was Conall, sand-colored and mud-spattered. The dirfox had improved greatly since that day that Russ had caught him, when he'd burst out of his pokéball after being healed and hid in a closet. Eventually he'd requested a nickname, as some pokémon did, and had shown off his psychic powers and excellent deception skills.

Russ wore his customary mild expression, but Belladonna's had been stormy since recalling her mantigore. She flicked a great ball into the ring. The energy in it coalesced and then rose, higher and higher.

An enormous arbok loomed over Conall, its hood snapping open to reveal eyespots in red and yellow, garish against its dark purple hide. The dirfox shifted backward a step as it studied him with lidless eyes, its forked tongue flickering.

Conall shivered—and then split into three copies. Too early. The battle screen flicked on, and Russ got a red flag from the ref. Too many faults and he'd forfeit.

No time to apologize: the arbok surged forward, selecting one of the double-team illusions, and it glared at it ferociously.

Behind Moriko: "Not double team—"

She jumped. "Gah! Matt, say something!"

Matt smirked and nodded at the arena. "Arbok can sense heat and heartbeat—it might be able to see through the double team."

"Confuse ray!" Russ commanded. "Conall!"

The dirfox and its copies were paralyzed, locked in the same half-crouch. The arbok's mouth opened grossly wide as it reared up and struck. An instant later, it was shaking the dirt off its snout as Conall and his remaining copy slunk away behind a drift of sand.

Matt folded his arms. "Huh, not bad."

The arbok whirled and spat venom at its opponent, but the dirfox levitated a curtain of sand to block the drops, running alongside it as it rose. Just in time: the arbok burst through the shield, striking just behind him.

"Confusion!"

Conall turned, trembling; it seemed to do nothing, but suddenly the air in front of his opponent rippled, distorting. Its head was knocked backward sharply as psychic energy washed over it. It lunged forward again, and then stopped, scanning the arena, looking past the dirfox right in front of it.

The CFN indicator flashed onto the battle feed. Some cheering from the audience.

Russ raised a fist triumphantly. "Get it, Conall! Use psybeam!"

The dirfox paused, charging the stronger psychic attack. When he let fly, multicolored energy hummed as it hit the arbok, who hissed and tried to jerk away. It struck out with a poison fang only to jar its neck painfully as it hit the ground a good meter away from its opponent.

Conall ran in, yipping mockingly. He hit it with short, sharp psychic attacks, the arbok's upraised body jerking from side to side as it looked around in bewilderment.

It couldn't last.

"Careful! Get to range and use sand whip!"

Belladonna sighed, annoyed. "Veregrei! Focus!" she called, and after a beat she put her fingers to her mouth, whistling with a peculiar harmonic.

The arbok's head whipped around.

"Conall—"

Veregrei dove at the dirfox almost too fast to see, the poison fang attacks stabbing into his body. Once, twice, three times—on the fourth strike, it tossed the dirfox into the air like a toy.

The arbok unhinged its jaw, and Conall tumbled headfirst into its gullet.

A groan from the crowd. Russ was holding out the dirfox's pokéball.

Veregrei spun, blocking the pokéball return beam. The arbok gulped grotesquely, the dirfox's limp legs sticking out of its mouth.

Moriko was on her feet, screaming at the ref, and Matt was too, and so was half the crowd.

The referee was waving a black flag; the match timer had paused—how many seconds had passed?—Belladonna was grinning again. The ref finally threw down his own pokémon, a reuniclus that expertly disabled both combatants and teleported them to opposite ends of the ring.

As it let them go, the arbok snapped its maw closed and looked around, hissing furiously, and Conall collapsed on his side, covered in deep bite marks. Russ recalled him.

Moriko saw him mouth disbelieving curses.

"Matt, what the fuck," she whispered.

Matt said nothing and just sat slowly. He stared down at the arena with his hands clenched on his knees.

Moriko watched Belladonna. A cold dislike crept up her back, and it felt like contemptuous looks and disbelieving stares.

 _There goes that half-second crossing girl, hafu kid, you know what_ they're _like_ ; every time she raised her voice or played too hard there it was, the wildwoman's child, the animal; her pokémon-bright hair and eyes markied her as _other_ despite ubiquitous cosmetic genehans—and she knew the rumors about how they'd got those colors without tech.

And Belladonna just—!?

"She's capering for them," Matt whispered. "This is what they want to see."

There was a disapproving murmur from the crowd, but no one had left their seats. They were here for this; they were here to be disgusted and shocked by the violence. The ref had stopped it when it had gone tantalizingly over the line.

Moriko glanced at him. "I was so careful," she said. "I was so careful my whole life. And she…"

He nodded once. He knew. "Queens," he muttered. "Court jester, more like. Who does she think she is, wearing the royal purple?"

Moriko felt bad, watching Russ. The psychic- and ground-type dirfox had been supposed to sweep the poison-type gym leader's team or nearly, but types hadn't been a factor: only the savage fangs of the arbok were needed. Now Russ had a fairy-type and a grass-type to pick from.

"Sylvia!" Russ called, tossing out her pokéball.

But then again…

Sylvia had evolved, her shoulder branches lengthening and sprouting into dragon's wings, her tail a long, flexible wooden club, and her forelegs morphed into long taloned arms. Borfang, wolf-dragon, much-loved for their loyalty and power.

Sylvia howled and took to the air.

"Ice fang," Belladonna said, but she'd folded her arms, looking less eager.

The arbok leapt at Sylvia, jaws crackling with ice-type energy as it pushed off the ground, its corded muscle launching it high into the air. It missed as she just flew out of reach.

"Venom spray."

"Dragonbreath!"

Sylvia wove neatly around the ranged attack and hit the arbok with one of her own, teal dragonfire searing down on it. It dove underground and burst out of the sand, missing her as she swooped away. It fired off a poison sting, wide and dispersed, and a couple of the needles managed to connect.

Another dragonbreath from the borfang and the arbok was slowing, paralyzed. It screeched, half the audience wincing, and Sylvia faltered, but she managed to wing off out of reach again.

The arbok was writhing, trying to follow her down the arena, slow and painful.

"Finish it off, Sylvia!"

Sylvia flew above it and breathed dragonfire until it disappeared in the recall.

"Arbok is out! One pokémon left on each side," the referee called, updating the match totals on the gym video screens.

The gym leader tapped her lips for a moment before selecting a new pokémon: it was a raigar, a shiny one with red fur and yellow markings, its bells shining silver in the sunlight.

"She's trying to force Sylvia to land," Matt commented. Airborne pokémon had unparalleled mobility, but it gave them vulnerabilities like an air-type.

"It's done if she can get a good hit on it, though." Tarahn had lost more than one battle when his opponent had resisted deception and charged in. "Is there anything ice/poison she could be using?" Moriko wondered.

"Look on your pokédex."

"There's this thing called 'making conversation'—"

"Rootbind, Sylvia!"

The raigar darted out before the grasping roots could connect and aimed a thunder wave at Sylvia. The electricity homed in on her and she grunted, glowing with the hit, her wingbeats turning fitful and uncoordinated. She didn't quite drop like a stone, but it was close.

The raigar approached and she lunged at it, talons out to slash. It dodged and raked her with a quick poison claw before leaping away again. She chased after it, wings still ungainly, and got a faceful of acid for her trouble. Sylvia snarled, her mane bristling as she tensed to spring.

"Sylvia!"

Russ whistled and she broke away, trotting in a circle around the arena's edge as the raigar mirrored her path.

"Well-trained," Matt said. "Dragon-types can get wild."

Moriko nodded. "She was going to leap headfirst into its next attack."

"Careful now," Russ was saying. "Roar!"

Sylvia's bellow had an edge to it that unnerved the human crowd and froze the raigar in its tracks. She shot forward, rising on her hind legs to slash powerfully.

The raigar recovered and hit her with another thunder wave; she fell, muscles jerking and her wings flapping uselessly, and the crowd cheered the reversal. The raigar danced away and then closed in again when she didn't follow, dragging its venomous claws down her belly.

Sylvia snapped at it, teeth closing on a limb, but it twisted out of her grip. It fled to range and started to spit gobbets of venom to finish her off.

Moriko groaned. Sylvia wasn't looking good. _Come on!_

But there was a glint in the borfang's eye, and roots shot out of the ground to curl around the raigar's paws as it yowled in surprise. She lunged, muscles straining, and she clamped her jaws around the smaller pokémon, shaking and worrying it with a growl and the discordant jingle of its bells.

It yowled and shocked her, but she held on, blood staining its yellow coat.

Belladonna recalled it and nodded perfunctorily at Russ. She was already looking away, looking at the crowd—looking for Moriko.

"Trainer Russell is the winner!"

"Yeah! Sylvia!" Moriko called, Matt whistling beside her.

Sylvia sat down clumsily, legs splayed, and Russ recalled her.

Moriko realized it was her turn.

"Go get 'em, kid," Matt said. He grinned as she rose uneasily.

Russ drew off to visit the healing machine, and the referee was calling for her.

The walk to the trainer's box took too long, the sky above her too blue, the sun too hot, the arena walls too close. The people in the audience were all staring at her, ranks and ranks of identical shadowed faces. She looked down, looked away, concentrated on the scuff of the stone under her boots and the feel of the weathered cast iron of the ladder under her fingers.

A perfect crowd to watch her lose.

 _Stop that,_ she told herself firmly, closing her eyes. Belladonna wasn't unbeatable, it had just happened twice today. Everything was perfectly okay. Tune the crowd out; they don't matter, they're just a bunch of repeated sprites, like in _Legendary III_.

She'd spent hours on that game with Russ, working through the battles and recruiting the pokémon characters, defeating boss ronin and impressing mythical pokémon from beyond time, freeing the lost prince. Becoming the legend yourself.

Gods, she was far from legendary.

Maybe that was for the best—the protagonist from _III_ turned into the villain in _Legendary IV_.

She selected Rufus' pokéball at the referee's signal.

The ball arced out, opened; energy spilled out as the reconvergence effect snapped as loud as thunder. It coalesced into the oxhaust, light fading. Rufus yawned and exhaled an umbrella of flame before setting about calmly stretching his muscles.

Belladonna had chosen her fifth monster. The oxhaust's opponent was a bipedal lizard with dark hide mottled with orange and yellow patches, its claws taped up with beige fabric.

 _Varanitor, the monitor pokémon. A poison- and fighting-type, it evolves from komodra due to age or when traded. Travelers found them on a distant island. They work together to secure territory and drive out intruders using a combination of poison and direct damage._

Moriko tried not to groan; the fighting-type was a problem. She squinted at Belladonna, getting tired of how gym leaders seemed to guess that the three of them each had a different Gaiien starter.

"Trainers may begin!"

The varanitor attacked suddenly from its patient crouch, charging and kicking up a cloud of sand at close range. It darted behind the oxhaust and kicked at his legs, talons gouging his hide. Rufus kicked backward, turning and roaring a flamethrower underneath one arm.

The varanitor wove out of reach and spat a clot of acid that sizzled on the pipes on Rufus' back. Rufus exhaled another fire attack as they backed off, circling each other.

"Bulk up," Belladonna said.

"Flame charge, Rufus!"

The varanitor glowed red, trading energy for strength, and it sidestepped as the oxhaust barrelled in, surrounded by flames. It dealt Rufus a neat karate chop across his back that dented his armor and sent him staggering.

Rufus flame charged again, aiming an iron punch at the varanitor, but he was still too slow, his opponent weaving around his fists. At last, Rufus got a hit in, flooring the varanitor—

—and it balanced on one claw mid-fall, and kicked Rufus right in the face.

The oxhaust staggered backward, dazed, arms up in a fighter's pose. Could he even see? Was his faceplate damaged? Moriko strained on tiptoe to see.

The varanitor shook itself, and then with a running leap it dove into the sand as if it was water.

 _Fuckshitfuckfuck_ —"Rufus! Use flame wheel and—just hold it! It's using dig!"

The oxhaust crouched, the fire on his shoulders leaping up as flame surrounded him in a spiral and held, flaring.

Agonizing seconds passed with no attack. Moriko bit her lip—the ref would call out a timer for no attacks occurring, it had to do something it had to do something now—Rufus could only hold like this so long—how 'bout now—now—

The varanitor burst out of the ground in a fountain of sand and punched Rufus in the lower back despite the flames. Rufus lost concentration, and the fire exploded outward off his body.

The varanitor was knocked back, flipped across the substrate, and it skidded to a stop before righting itself gingerly. Rufus whirled to face it—gods, still too slow—but the BRN indicator pinged on the arena monitor. Both pokémon were panting; the varanitor's boxing tape was gone, burnt up, and its movements were slowing.

 _Come on! He can outlast it!_ "Flame charge!"

Rufus' mane flared and shot haphazardly out of his crushed pipes. He charged again—and missed as the varanitor leapt onto his back. It jammed its claws into an unarmored spot on his neck, and Rufus bellowed, blood spurting.

"Rufus!"

He jerked, trying to throw it off. The two pokémon were flailing at one another desperately, Rufus swiping at his tormentor and the varanitor grimly hanging on.

Finally the oxhaust caught hold of one of its arms, and in an instant it was on the ground, the breath whooshing out of it. It gasped, trying to push itself away, dragging along the ground.

"Stomp!" Moriko shouted. "Get it!"

Rufus took a few stiff steps, but Belladonna recalled the varanitor before he got close.

Yellow flag. "One pokémon down on the gym leader's side."

Moriko exhaled, long and slow. That had been close; only Rufus' toughness had got him through that fight. But it had been a controlled match, at least. The varanitor was better-trained and -disciplined than some of the gym leader's other choices.

Well, mostly. Blood was streaming out of Rufus's neck as he held his hand to it, slumped over, acid eating away at his armor. The referee looked at her, questioning, and Moriko nodded, recalling the oxhaust.

"One pokémon down on the challenger's side. Final matchup."

Who to select next? Rufus had been first with his immunity to poison, and Tarahn had a resistance and couldn't be poisoned. Liona might make a good showing, given how Belladonna had struggled against Sylvia.

"Go, Tarahn!" she said, deciding, his pokéball flying out into the ring.

It was a moment before Belladonna chose her pokémon. Eventually a teal and black net ball hit the ground, emitting a burst of turquoise light.

"Scypha," the gym leader said.

Moriko stared and drew out her pokédex. What was—?

 _Oh._ The blue and metallic red cap of a tentacruel lay on the sand like a gigantic mushroom, six feet across and bloated. Its eyes and tentacles were invisible, buried, as if the arena substrate was water and it was floating out at sea.

It didn't stir. Tarahn's tail twitched; Moriko wondered if he was resisting the temptation to go up to and poke it.

What was it doing? Water pokémon without limbs should be levitating at this level, sacrificing energy for mobility, or their trainers would only use them on a water field.

She glanced up at Belladonna; the gym leader was bored, unconcerned. The ref was counting seconds—someone had to attack, and as the challenger the onus was on her.

It looked like the joke was on her too, whatever it was.

"Use thunderbolt, Tarahn," she said.

"You got it!"

He was eager to act. Bright yellow and blue energy crackled along his body; he took his time to really charge it up against his unmoving opponent and then let fly.

It fizzled into nothingness. There was a faint orange barrier around it. Protect? Light screen? _Godsdammit_ —she pulled out her pokédex again, pointing its eye at the battle.

"Again, Tarahn!"

Another fizzle: protect. It couldn't do that forever, but Tarahn couldn't attack forever, either.

It smelled like a trap.

"Thunder claw, this time," Moriko said. "But be careful."

Tarahn was stronger putting his claws and elemental power together; time to go for the bigger, riskier hit when the opponent wouldn't be able to nullify it. He crept up to the tentacruel, stalking, Moriko watching him carefully. They both started as someone in the crowd whistled shrilly, heckling him.

"Hurry up, scaredy-cat!"

Whoever it was, they were rapidly shushed by their neighbors, but Tarahn was annoyed. He lashed his tail, and crouched and leapt at the thing.

Dark tentacles slithered out of the ground to swat him out of the air. Moriko jumped; Tarahn hit the ground with a thud as they disappeared as quickly as they came.

Belladonna was grinning again, leaning on the railing of her box.

"For fuck's sake," Moriko muttered.

Tarahn snarled, really irritated now, and hit it with another thunderbolt. Moriko could have sworn the cap actually flinched this time.

She glanced at her pokédex. It was confused by the tentacruel being half underground, the health bar oscillating as it couldn't decide how much energy its body had absorbed. _Protect_ , the move log claimed, as well as _ground circuit_.

It would poison a regular opponent and then wait them out, tiring them, she realized. Constricting attacks too, but that would just be an easy path for Tarahn's electricity.

"Thunderbolt again, it can only stall for so long," Moriko said, decisive. Protect was very energy-intensive, she knew that much.

A flash of light—mirror coat. The blue thunderbolt flew back at Tarahn, pure energy sizzling over his body, and he spat in frustration. Moriko tried not to let her own show.

But it had finally taken damage. No more immunity moves left?

"Thunder claw, Tarahn!"

The raigar snarled eagerly and darted forward to attack at melee again, weaving to avoid the slap from the underground limbs.

A forest of tentacles erupted.

Scypha rose, sand spilling off of it like water. Tiny eyes glinted on the black underbody; it tilted its pincers forward and a jet of water blasted directly at Tarahn, surprising him and sending him rolling.

He righted himself and roared, tail lashing and his fur soaked. The tentacles extended, coming for him again.

"Use agility! Get out of there!"

The raigar shook himself off, nonchalantly, before disappearing.

He re-appeared above the tentacruel and landed delicately on its rubbery cap before proceeding to sink four sets of claws and his teeth into his opponent. Tarahn didn't like being embarrassed in front of spectators.

He shook his head like Sylvia, tearing off a huge strip of transparent tissue.

There was a horrible sound, a banshee howling that made the audience cringe and Tarahn freeze. The tentacruel caught him in its tentacles and swung him, hard, onto the floor.

Electricity arced off Tarahn, crackling off the force barrier and surging up the tentacles binding him. The tentacruel groaned and flopped limply to the ground in a puddle of arms.

Taran spat a glob of acid at it casually. A buzzing, whining noise started up, and the raigar started to paw at his ears and shake his head. Supersonic?

"Tarahn, stay focused—"

The limp tentacles shot forward like snakes and caught the raigar in a crushing grip. Tarahn scrabbled, trying to free himself, firing off confused thundershocks.

The tentacruel tilted its underbody forwards again, pincers gaping, and it lifted Tarahn off the ground. Where was this energy coming from? Had it been faking?

"Thunderbolt!" Moriko yelled.

The tentacruel garrotted Tarahn.

His eyes bulged, mouth opening soundlessly as he clawed at the arm around his neck. Electricity arced off him, and then it cut off, like a switch closing.

The raigar's flailing body went limp and he turned to energy, a yellow-and-purple sphere that jerked and floated away fitfully. Fainted, pure and simple. Fuck. She was done.

Moriko whipped out Tarahn's pokéball. "I forfeit! Return!"

Belladonna's tentacruel blocked the beam with its body.

 _What?_ "Return!"

The beam lasered over the tentacruel and did nothing, rejected by the unlinked energy signature.

Scypha looked right at Moriko. It gently encircled Tarahn's energy with a tentacle.

It looked into Moriko's eyes, and it stuffed Tarahn's energy body between its pincers.

It dove under the sand.

She couldn't breathe.

The arena walls seemed to rise far above her head; they were a pit now, a grave, and far above a demoness was silhouetted against the burning sky.

Someone was shouting. It took her a moment before she realized it was herself.

"Don't touch him! _Don't touch him!_ You sick fuck, control your pokémon! Return! Return!"

She threw herself over the edge of the trainer box and hit the ground hard, stumbling, falling, substrate scraping her hands and knees.

"I'll kill you!" Moriko spat, grit in her mouth. "Don't touch him! I'll drink your blood you sick—you crazy—"

The ref was blowing his whistle. Useless.

"Trainer! Off the arena floor!"

"Do something you blind shit!" she screamed back. "He's dying!"

She scrabbled across the sand, tripping in the drifts built up by the fights, boots crunching on the slicks of glass that Rufus' best attacks had left. She fell and cut herself.

There was a wordless primate scream forcing itself out of her throat as she ran. She couldn't tell how loud it was. The crowd was a blur. The sky was on fire. Tarahn was dying.

 _Most ronin are killer pokémon, but some killer pokémon aren't ronin._

 _Some people want to catch them._

The tentacruel raised itself out of the sand as she approached, Tarahn's yellow energy trembling in its pincers.

It was enormous, barnacle-encrusted, a monster that had drifted the seas long before the third crossing had forced its way between the worlds. A hag, a Baba Yaga that had made a deal with a gym leader: it was old, its strength decayed—but it knew tricks. Let it terrorize kids at tier three.

Rufus let himself out of his ball despite his injuries, and Liona followed. They tried to shield her, Rufus putting out his gauntleted arm and the nigriff spreading her wings.

Moriko shoved her way past them, heedless.

Rufus: "Moriko, don't—"

Liona: "What do we—"

The tentacruel looked down at her, its narrow eyes contemptuous, and she felt the wave of derision pulse off of it, at her, at Rufus and Liona.

The tentacruel was laughing at her, and it dissolved away into nothing as Belladonna recalled it.

There was a yellow and purple sphere on the ground, pulsing gently.

Moriko was gasping, hyperventilating; she grabbed at it, her hands passing through the energy. She remembered the ball, almost dropped it. Tarahn disappeared into it.

She sunk onto the ground, body curled around the pokéball.

"Moriko, he's okay," Rufus was saying. He touched her shoulder and left a bloody handprint. "Ugh, sorry. Moriko—"

Belladonna was coming down off her trainer platform. She was laughing.

Moriko shot upward, her body hot and stinging. She advanced on the gym leader.

"You sick fuck, what was that? What the fuck—this isn't _funny_ —"

Belladonna's eyes were bright and merry and poison-green, her arms clacking with a swamp witch's bone bangles and fetishes.

"Oh it is, it is, my dear. You've come to the right place—"

"You tried to kill him!" Moriko screamed. "That is a _killer pokémon_ —"

"Darling! Please. This is a _show_. This is what they come for. They come for me, and they come for blood," she said, gesturing around at the crowd. "You were perfect, cousin."

"How do—how do you fucking _live_ —"

"Trainer Moriko, please leave the arena—"

She whirled. "You useless sack of shit—how much does she pay you?"

"Harassment of a league official," the referee warned her, without much force. The reuniclus was back, cheerful under its green cell wall, and it floated forward casually.

Moriko turned again and saw Belladonna's grinning face. She lunged at her.

The varanitor clotheslined her out of nowhere, and Moriko went down, seeing stars.

Belladonna was crying with laughter. "No," she was saying, "no, no, let her up, let her go. Oh, _cousin_."

Moriko snarled, actually snarled, and Belladonna guffawed again. The varanitor started dragging Moriko away, and the gym leader flitted forward and kissed her forehead.

"Come and see me again, soon, cousin," Belladonna sang.

Rufus snorted warningly at the varanitor as it pushed Moriko down in front of him and Liona.

"Don't touch my trainer!"

"Don't touch mine," the varanitor replied, forked tongue snaking out.

"Moriko!"

Russ and Matt came down to the arena's edge.

Moriko looked up into Russ's shocked face and Matt's darkly amused one, and she looked around and around at the crowd, the faces blurring together, laughing, cringing, disgusted, and she felt strangled inside, hot and floating.

 _That half girl, rushing at the gym leader after losing. An animal._

She was sick. She had always been sick. The sickness had never left her, it had just been waiting all this time to come rushing out and ruin everything—

"Hey, Moriko, hey, hey, it's okay," Russ was saying to her.

She was dimly aware that she was crying, soundless, gasping, her lungs straining like a bellows.

"You're okay, Tarahn is okay, no one died, you're good, let's go, let's go to the pokémon center—"

Moriko allowed herself to be led away.

There was poison, and she had brought it with her; it was in her bloodline; it had always been there, sickening everything it touched. There had always been something more to destroy: her. And it was coming from inside.

They were right. They had always been right. She was monstrous.

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko sat miserably in the pokémon center. Tarahn had not gone through the quick course of healing, as Rufus and the other pokémon had.

"Damage to the body can be healed as energy in under a half hour, but damage to the underlying energetics takes longer," the pokémon doctor had explained. "He'll be here for treatment overnight."

The tentacruel _had_ hurt Tarahn when he was fainted. That had to be illegal—that was how pokémon killed and ate each other—

"Think about it, you want to report someone for hurting your pokémon in a pokémon battle?" Matt scoffed. "The damage is healable, so there's no case."

"Fuck off, Matt."

He shrugged. "I see what all the one-star reviews for the gym are for now, though."

"Legal or illegal, it was still fucked up," Russ said uneasily. "Saints, I don't know if Conall is going to be the same after that. He gets his first go at a gym battle and it's nearly the worst of the wild."

"Don't you care about Maia?" Moriko said suddenly to Matt. "She had to fight that thing, gouged, poisoned—"

Matt put up a hand. "Do not ever try to use Maia to guilt me again," he said, and she fell silent, chastened.

They left her alone to stew, and when the nurse pokémon said she could see Tarahn she tore into the room.

She slowed, seeing him stretched out on a bed underneath a whirling matrix of energy.

"Tarahn…"

"Hi!"

There was a warhare sleeping under a similar contraption, and a fainted pokémon under a tight energy barrier. The status monitor identified it as a nimbval, too big to lay down on the cleffa-patterned bed.

"Moriko?"

She looked at him. "Tarahn, we—let's go home."

He sat up on the cot. "What? Why?"

"You almost died," Moriko whispered. "I should have—we'll go home, this is stupid, this was never—"

"Moriko!" Tarahn tried to move closer, and the regen machine beeped a warning. He whuffed and lay down again. "Moriko, stop. It was scary. But I'm okay, I just need more healing. I don't want to quit. Why do you?"

"Because—that was too much! It choked you, Tarahn! I watched your body die!"

"That's not—it was just dirty fighting, Moriko," Tarahn said, bewildered. "It hurt a lot and it made me lose, but I'm okay."

"Tarahn, I—I just—I don't—"

"What is it?"

"…I couldn't protect you. I couldn't keep you safe."

"Safe from what? If I wanted to do nothing and never get hurt I'd be a pet. I wanna fight. Sometimes that means I get my butt kicked. _You_ like fighting, or you used to. What's actually wrong?"

She took a deep breath. "I went crazy, Tarahn. I wanted to kill Belladonna. Just like…"

"What? What? No! Moriko, no. I remember." He tapped his paw, inviting, and she put her hand under the energy net and touched his purple toes.

He watched her. "I remember, in your old house. I remember what happened."

There was an ember at her heart, and if she never touched it, it could never burn her. She didn't think about it, couldn't; it would come back in searing clarity. Like she'd never left.

There had been blood, that last night in the house by the brook. A lot of it.

"You're not like that. You're not. We're together. We're alive, so we keep going. We're going to win together. And I'm the claws, I'll protect _you_. You can't get rid of me. Right?" Tarahn purred at her, violet eyes bright, the bells on his mane shining.

Moriko touched his paw, first pokémon, first friend, friend in spite of everything.

"Right," she said.


	11. Forest Fire

Chapter 10

 _Mooskeg / Ronin / Forest Fire_

 _—July 13th-20th 128 CR_

Matt waited for Belladonna in the garden, the breeze bringing him breaths of faintly chemical fragrances. He had the persistent feeling that the plants were watching, hanging bells and stars and trumpet-shaped blooms all turning toward him. He wasn't sure if they were supplicants or hunters.

When Belladonna appeared, he swore they looked for her, too. Not his supplicants, then.

The gym leader was striding to her next appointment, sandaled feet quick on the stone path. Her resting face was unremarkable, and then she saw him: she grinned, metamorphosing, the sudden animation of her face striking, arresting, drawing the eye. He thought he saw fangs, like an asura's.

She kept walking. He followed her. She set a fast pace, the tall hedges whisking by like a tunnel, down into faerieland.

"Why do you do this?" he asked, as they approached the arena. "You're just like they say."

"Fuck 'em," Belladonna said. "What do I care what a bunch of _zhoresu_ think?"

Zhoresu: the thin people. The faded people. Third crossing. It felt like a little desperate coming from someone who was half.

"It's a _performance_ , cousin," Belladonna said, with the air of explaining something basic to a small child. "It keeps the seats full and the kids pleasantly frightened, and no one gets hurt. Permanently," she amended, flipping a hand. "I'm providing a service, alright? And when I get tired of it I'll do something else. Everyone changes up the act once in a while."

Matt's lip curled. "You think you're royalty? You're a sad excuse for an entertainer. Don't you care what it makes them think? About us?"

Belladonna snorted. "They see us being good and normal every single damn day, and then they see me for ninety minutes and _that_ convinces them of what they always knew."

Matt heard the bitterness, and he felt it in his bones.

"I could go out there in a suit and glasses and teach calculus, and they'd see some other kid get in a fight or swagger with a gang, and they'd decide then instead. At least this way I make a buck."

He didn't have anything to say to that. Belladonna kept going; she had an appointment.

"They already decided about you and Moriko, Matt," she said over her shoulder. "And about me, too. So fuck 'em. Do what you want!"

x.x.x.x.x

In the morning, Tarahn was fine, the damage to his energy skeleton fully repaired. The fear was gone.

That left the shame.

Moriko remembered everything. The looks on people's faces; Belladonna's laughter; her sick panic at seeing Tarahn devoured by the tentacruel. It felt like a blow, like knives, like ice and fire. She put her hands on her face, tears squeezing out from between her closed eyelids.

Moriko lay miserably in her cot until it was too warm and muggy in the dorm, and then she found a tree to sit under in a public park. Tarahn nudged her periodically, but she was sullen, paging through her pokédex to waste time. Rufus was happy to nap in the sea breeze, a faint haze of heat riding from his body; eventually Tarahn gave up and crawled into the oxhaust's lap to doze.

Russ and Matt joined her, and she ignored them, too. Russ threw a ball for Sylvia, flinging it high into the air or over rooftops, but the borfang only needed a few wingflaps to intercept and catch it in mid-air. Matt sat quietly under the tree, leaning against Maia.

They watched Russ play-wrestle with Sylvia; Conall the dirfox watched, and then eagerly joined in. Shaky, still, after his experience in the ring, but getting better.

"So, what's your plan, Moriko?" Matt murmured.

"Hmm?"

"What are you going to do next?"

She sighed. "Go sign up again, I guess. Train while I'm waiting."

"Want to use Maia? Speed things up?"

Moriko instantly felt sick. The tibyss was magnificent, but… She remembered the looks on Rufus and Tarahn's faces, back in Umber. She could taste their disappointment, pale and nauseous, at the back of her throat.

"No," she said. "No, I can't."

"Can't you? Come on, it's not _bad_ —"

"I won't, Matt." Her mouth twisted up with disgust. "I won't. It has to be me and my team."

"Well, if you don't want to play it smart…"

Moriko set her jaw.

"It's just a suggestion, so don't get mad—"

Moriko sat up so she could leave. "Funny how telling people not to get mad pisses them off. Boosting hurt Rufus and Tarahn, Matt, and it made me feel weird. I'll do it on my own."

"Noted. New suggestion: let's keep going to Russet Town. We have to come back to Porphyry to take the train to Sunset Mountain. You could fight her again at tier seven instead."

She narrowed her eyes, watching him. "What good will that do?"

"Kicks the can down the road. Makes it a problem for future you." He laughed. Maia gave a stern _murr_. "You… might be in a better state of mind then, more wins, more confident. And she'll have different pokémon for that level bracket. You won't see that tentacruel again."

Her gut twisted. "Its sibling then, worse-behaved."

Matt shrugged. "Think about it."

Moriko walked off; Rufus and Tarahn stirred and followed her. They didn't say anything, but she didn't feel any unhappiness or resentment from them, either.

Coming around the corner, she saw the amphitheater of the gym rising above the surrounding buildings and stared at it. She'd sign up again and train more, get an edge with power.

But. Belladonna would know she was coming. She'd know her pokémon; she'd know that her varanitor had almost beaten Rufus and that her tentacruel had definitely beaten Tarahn, despite the type matchup. Round two, fight.

Better to get it done with? Probably, but what if she couldn't win? Another week, another wait, the guys getting more and more impatient, pushing her to boost with their pokémon… Anxiety twisted in her chest.

Matt's idea had an incredible appeal. She could come back in sleepier, hotter August with a smaller crowd, a different audience as people left to watch the tournament at Thalassa Heights.

And if she was an animal, better to be out in the woods with the other animals. Better to be alone or nearly and away from the scrutiny of the crowd and their judgment.

"Yeah," she said. She blew out her breath, her overlong bangs stirring. "Yeah, let's get out of here."

x.x.x.x.x

They took the train out of Porphyry to the salt marshes to the west, sunnier and more open than those in the east. They hired a guide to take them through the crisscrossing channels, the water green and gray underneath overhanging banks and sunken trees, the paths hung with vines and moss. This was good country for canoeing; they had to portage a few times but not excessively. Russ and Moriko raced Matt and the guide, arms pumping, but the guide could have beaten them on her own.

The three of them reached the river delta at La Balise, a beautiful location with zero tourists and long stretches of shaded beaches. It was a rich area, dense with animals and pokémon: they'd seen goredile and the papiliris line in the swamp, and on the beach there were sclallap and hermean in the shallows, and vitreel and its evolutions along the reef.

Wingull and pelipper were everywhere, flying and diving, and they even saw a gigantic albacant from far away. Moriko and Russ caught a poliwhirl and a corphish that declined to stay with them but were happy to receive treats before they left.

Moriko was interested in goredile, but the crocodile pokémon had a distressing tendency to give their canoes warning slaps if they lingered too long. The air was thick with mosquitoes as well, and they could only carry so much repellent. A few mutant skeeters didn't care about that either, so it was a relief to get into the dryer forest.

Moriko started to feel better, away from the city and the crush of people. She slept through the night, and if she was awoken by rain or insects buzzing she could fall asleep again instead of stewing and wishing for trainers chatting in the dorms to leave. Some people liked that environment, liked the activity and the opportunity, but gods, she'd found it stifling.

Even her overreaction at the gym had started to lose some of its clarity. Some other trainer would lose or win amusingly, and she'd be forgotten about. And even Matt had been strangely forgiving, not bringing it up constantly to shame her.

She really needed to slow down and enjoy herself. It felt like every day since Tsugaru had been a life-or-death struggle with the weight of terrible expectations on her. She could always try again or skip gyms; hell, she could leave and go to another region. Angela and them had treated it all as a big vacation, and they'd caught more pokémon to boot.

Moriko wondered if Angela had gone back to Port Littoral like they'd talked about. She snorted. Angela wanted to quit when her group hadn't even run into any trouble, just heard about it. Likely Moriko's group was the magnet for trouble, and the others would have an eventless summer.

x.x.x.x.x

Angela gave the pot of instant noodles a final stir before moving it off the embers of the fire, the soup packet blooming as the dehydrated vegetables and soup stock hit the water. Not at all bad for camping food.

"Soup's ready, guys!" she called.

They were making good time to Russet Town. There had been a lot of warnings on the ranger boards for Verdure and its surrounding areas, but they'd decided to give the route west from Porphyry a chance. It had been great despite the marsh and the bugs: beautiful weather and tons of pokémon, and there were wayhouses and guides along the way to provide shelter and direction on the well-maintained trails.

She divided the noodles and broth into four bowls, lining them up near to the fire so they wouldn't get cold, and Kai and Vic turned up with their pokémon.

"Garon, give that here!" Vic said as her wintris stole a packet of jerky.

Angela looked around. "Where's Dave?"

"Training with Ophelia," Vic replied, slurping her noodles. "Send him a message."

The four of them all had their badges from the towns they'd visited so far. Dave had come the closest to losing in Verdure and Porphyry—that Porphyry gym leader had been weird, and the fights difficult and bloody—and had devoted the most time to training since then.

Despite how their journey had started out mostly unplanned, they were all overachievers, and none of them liked passing by narrow margins. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it right.

She'd been glad when they'd gotten out of the swamp. The borfang were strong, but they were young and could only fly two people a short distance at a time. There wasn't much choice for landing sites, either. They'd ended up renting two boats, but it was just as well—they caught a couple pokémon, and the scenery was just spectacular.

The marshlands had slowly turned into seawoods, still lush but not nearly as damp underfoot, and they were making great time again, interspersing rapid flights aboard Ophelia and Cavall with leisurely walks and attempts to track wild pokémon.

It was really a boon to have the storage devices. Angela felt bad, abandoning Russ to the mercies of her cousin and a stranger, but it was his decision. She wasn't really sure what was motivating _that_ , against all better judgement, but she'd given up trying to speculate what flavor of bizarre affection Russell had for Moriko.

Her parents still refused to see sense, that Moriko was—finally!—out of their hair, and Angela expected to see another worried email or five when she was back in civilization. She ate her noodles a little savagely, thinking of that. She wanted to get away from all these wretched family problems and just have fun for once! In September she'd only have time to study, as she'd been warned repeatedly.

"Damn, what's taking Dave so long?" asked Kai, setting down his empty bowl. "Did he reply?"

Service was spotty out here, but he should have got the message through short-range connections.

"Let's go look for him," Vic said. "He might have fallen ass-over-teakettle into poison ivy or something."

Angela checked her pokédex. It _had_ been a while. "Yeah, I feel kinda concerned, let's clear up and go looking."

She set her pokédex to track other 'dexes and Ophelia's plant-type aura as the other two tidied the dishes and loaded them into the storage device.

"Should we all go? What if someone's trying to split us up, or take our stuff if we all go looking for him?" Kai wondered suddenly.

"Fuck, quit trying to scare me, dude," Vic said. "Who the hell else is out here? The last person we saw was the guide at La Balise."

"Kai, can you stay here while Vic and I go look for Dave?" Angela suggested after a moment.

"Leaving me alone to get stabbed, huh," Kai said dryly, but he tossed Cavall's pokéball to the ground. The borfang yawned and flexed his wings.

"Can I eat his noodles?" Vic asked.

"Do it, they're getting soggy," Angela said. She checked her own pokéball belt and released Rio; the tibyss looked out into the forest and sniffed.

Vic scarfed down the soup noisily, ignoring her begging wintris. "Do you remember which way he went?"

"I'm pretty sure it was this way," Angela said, calling up the area map on her pokédex. There was a path down to a lookout point, and there were usually alcoves along the way for battles. It was a little optimistic given how few trainers they tended to see out in parks, but maybe one day.

"Don't get killed," Kai said encouragingly as Angela and Vic headed out into the forest.

Rio heard the voices first. The four of them approached cautiously, then faster as they heard screaming.

They came to a larger clearing. Dave's habadryad was fighting his borfang, but—

Ophelia's hide was smoldering, covered in burning pepper seeds and oil. Hannas was hitting her with sparkling fairy wind attacks, but she was lunging forward and snapping without pause, her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

"Ophelia! Ophie, stop! Stop!" Dave screamed, his voice ragged.

"Dave? What's going on?"

He spun. "Ange! Ange, run—"

The habadryad squeaked as the borfang picked her up bodily in her jaws and shook her head violently. Hannas fainted, turning to energy and fleeing for Dave's belt.

Ophelia turned toward the trainers.

"Garon!" Vic said. "Icy wind!—Dave, what?"

Dave was trying to push her and Ange away. "Don't, just run, she's—"

With a bound, Ophelia was right in front of them. Rio shot forward and clamped on her neck with an ice fang, the frost driving into her hide and partially covering her face. The borfang kept coming, swiping at the tibyss, and the wintris grabbed one of her legs in an ice fang of his own.

The three trainers backed off. For a moment, it looked like Rio and Garon's ice-type attacks were taking a toll—thank the saints for double weaknesses—and then Ophelia shook them both off with a savage roll that left black ichor leaking from her wounds where she'd dragged their jaws out of her flesh.

She roared, dragon's breath flaring blue and teal into the air and withering the grass underfoot. Garon and Rio threw themselves out of the way, circling behind Ophelia.

She set her eyes on the humans.

"Rio, use—"

"Ophelia!" Dave shouted, putting himself heroically between Vic and Ange and the borfang. "Please! Stop!"

She didn't.

x.x.x.x.x

 _Something watches. It smiles._

 _Animals and pokémon come across it in the wood; they startle. They move off, their minds sliding off of it like water. It is faceless._

 _They forget it instantly._

 _They smell it for a long time afterward, shivering and troubled for reasons they cannot remember._

 _It smells like blood. A lot of it._

x.x.x.x.x

"Hey Mor, I found—guh!" Russ grunted.

"Shutupshutupshutup!" Moriko hissed. She yanked him behind a rock.

"Rude," he said. He massaged his shoulder. "What is it?"

" _Look_ at that mooskeg," Moriko said, excited.

He cautiously peered around the side of the boulder. There was a big mooskeg, teal and brown with its white antlers wreathed in water-weed, wading through the stream. It hadn't noticed them yet, and it was upwind; they could sneak up on it.

"What's the holdup?"

"Trying to figure out the best angle. I don't want it to just run," Moriko said.

"If it wants to run you should let it," Russ reminded her gently. "Don't waste the pokéball."

"I know! I know." She picked at the lichen dotting the rock. "But maybe I could persuade it. It would be excited at having a good battle."

"Uh huh. Well, let me—"

"Russ! We can't cheat!"

"—scare it, just scare it, with Sylvia and drive it toward you."

She bit her lip. "Yeah," she said slowly. "Tricky. I like it."

"Nice. _Allons-y_."

Moriko stayed crouched behind the boulder while Russ shuffled away, making a wide loop through the trees. She waited impatiently, legs getting sore. A bug was flying around nearby, probably getting ready to buzz straight into her ear.

"C'mon, Russ—"

A shuffling on the bank, and Russ fell into the water with a splash.

The mooskeg started, surprised, and then waded over to him, snout extended and sniffing.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" Sylvia barked. She burst out of cover, flying straight into its face.

It bellowed and hit the borfag with a vine whip across the muzzle. She yelped and snapped at it, probably reflexively, and it hit her with its antlers.

 _Shit._ Moriko leapt up and hurled Liona's pokéball into the air, and the nigriff burst out and winged toward the mooskeg.

"I've got it, Sylvia! Help Russell!" she yelled.

The mooskeg snorted and fired off a water gun toward Liona, who dodged and streaked in with a wing attack. The air-type energy flashed silver and scraped over the moose pokémon's hide, but she was given a hard thwack by the mooskeg's antlers in passing.

Sylvia had landed in the stream and Russ hopped on her back. She leapt into the air herself, carrying him away from the fight.

"Ha! Run, pup!" the mooskeg called after her. "And as for you—"

The surface of the water swirled, rising, and blasted off after Liona, who was hit squarely and fell onto the riverbank, coughing and sodden. She shuffled backward as the mooskeg charged, head lowered, and Moriko snapped her pokéball out to recall her.

"Tarahn!" Moriko called, throwing his pokéball.

"Oh please, this is your fighter?" the mooskeg scoffed. "I've been crushing raigar bones since long before your parent whelped you, kitten."

"Uh, rude," Tarahn said, and he split into three copies.

"Thunder wave!"

The mooskeg charged into the double-team illusions, but they evaded it, dodging and turning, and the real one emitted the thunder wave attack. The mooskeg crowed triumphantly, seeing the illusion, but the sound died in its throat as its muscles seized.

Tarahn darted in, raking its sides with poison claw and getting a good poison fang in on one of its forelegs, and then he splashed away, further up the stream. Another water blast caught him in the back, bowling him over. He got back to his feet and stayed out of reach, firing off a venom spray as the mooskeg staggered toward him.

The mooskeg summoned nature power, producing a stream of water choked with plant life that shot after Tarahn. He fired a thundershock at it, strafing to the side.

"Copycat that, Tarahn!" Moriko said, running along the opposite bank after them.

Tarahn grimaced, concentrating, and then stones and mud from his position on the bank started to levitate. They pelted after the mooskeg, weighing it down and blinding it.

"You know a few tricks, kitten," the mooskeg said, panting. "So do I."

Roots shot out from under the riverbank, snaring Tarahn. He yelped, trying to tear his paws out from their grasp. The mooskeg charged again, throwing off the paralysis—into empty air as Moriko recalled the raigar.

"Confound you, human!" the mooskeg bellowed as Moriko threw out Liona's ball again. "Enough of these games!"

The nigriff came out flying, her wings scything through the air and winding up another air attack to rake the mooskeg. It fired off another water gun attack that went wide.

"Whirlwind, Liona!"

The vortex of air spun into place around the mooskeg, muffling its shouts of rage and churning up the water. Liona launched a couple of gust attacks and then leapt into the air, flying straight up and then down in a flying press. She hit with a meaty thud, springing away from her opponent's last antler sweep.

The mooskeg slumped. It couldn't stand, leaking black ichor into the stream, and it bared its teeth ferociously, its lungs working with huge bellows-breaths.

"What next?" it forced out.

Moriko drew an ultra ball out of her pocket—pricy, but with a larger capture net for bigger and more powerful pokémon—and tossed it underhand. The mooskeg saw it at the last minute, turning its head, and then it was opening, the energy of the net spilling out over it and turning it to energy. It bobbed, floating, and Liona caught it in her forepaw.

"Watch out!" Moriko said, wading into the river. "Is it wiggling?"

"No, I can't feel anything. I'll bring it to you," the nigriff said, splashing over to her, three-legged.

"Great work! Thanks, Liona." Moriko scratched behind her beak.

"What happens now?" Liona asked, watching the ball.

"Same as with you—potions and a snack. Let's head back to the camp."

x.x.x.x.x

Matt raised his eyebrows at Moriko as she came back into view. "You push Russ into the water?"

She laughed. "Not personally, but I guess I was responsible. I caught a mooskeg!"

"Oh, wonderful! You might have six pokémon by the time we get to Sunset Mountain, if you're lucky."

"Says the guy with three pokémon," Moriko retorted, annoyed.

Matt put his head on one side. "Mmm. Touché."

"Where _is_ Russ?"

"Up in the air with Sylvia. Scouting, I guess."

Moriko assembled potions and treats for the mooskeg, but Russell and Sylvia soon touched down again.

"Uh, guys?" Russ said.

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko went up on Liona's back to see it herself: to the southwest, the forest was burning. It was throwing up dark smoke that was billowing wider and taller by the moment. No flames were visible at their distance, and they couldn't smell it because the wind was blowing it away from them, which was a small mercy.

"Seriously? It's been such a wet summer," Russ said to himself, paging through his pokédex.

Matt didn't say anything, just sat and crossed his arms gloomily.

"It's a ways out still, I think we could just keep walking parallel to it. I guess?" Moriko added, uncertain.

"There should be a ranger notice about it, but I'm not getting any service. There's a trainer wayhouse about a day away, though."

"Let's go there and connect, then, and see what the forecast is on the fire."

Russ nodded. "Maybe we'll have to turn around, but it will be better to know than just guessing. Matt?"

Matt grunted and set about packing up his stuff, and the other two followed suit.

x.x.x.x.x

The wayhouse was comfortable but amusingly forward-thinking: it had rows of bunks, tables, and a cleared area outside for a couple dozen travelers, and with just the three of them it was strangely empty. They didn't have much time to appreciate it, though, because its internet connection was working. Their pokédexes lit up with hazard warnings and pokémon ranger notices almost as soon as they connected.

The fire looked like a distorted balloon, with a broad head where the fire had been burning outward for longer, and a long, zig-zagging tail. There were satellite photos, grainy and pixelated to suit their weak connection. Ranger commentary said that they weren't sure what had started the blaze, but the pattern was common to fire-type pokémon burning out of control.

Any pokémon trainers in the area were strongly urged to send notice and meet rangers for evacuation at a listed set of coordinates.

Moriko felt more apprehension at the suggestion that the fire was started by a ronin. A lightning strike was just bad luck; it wasn't like the fire could try to follow you, consciously.

They could just keep going. Rangers would probably be along to neutralize the pokémon shortly. Then again, they wouldn't know whether the ronin was after them until it was too late.

"How far away is the rendezvous?" Moriko asked.

Russ wiggled one hand. "Another day."

She grimaced. "Should we eat dinner and keep going?"

"A night march in the forest wouldn't be my favorite," Russ said doubtfully. He scrolled through the ranger page, thinking. "If it turns at a right angle and speeds up we'd be in danger tonight. I'm pretty sure we can sleep and keep going tomorrow."

Matt was being quiet again.

"Matt? Any input?" Moriko asked.

He nodded stiffly. "Sounds good," he managed to say.

x.x.x.x.x

They slept uneasily, waking to check their pokédexes every hour. In the morning the ronin hadn't made any right angle turns, but it was shifting east, and they set out early. Apprehension lent them speed, unable to check on the fire's progress away from the wayhouse's wi-fi. Periodically they sent up a flying pokémon to check on the progress of the smoke plume.

It seemed like it was getting closer. They sped up, sweating and swigging water, not speaking to one another, just thinking about their heavy packs and their boots thudding on the path

Moriko started to feel dizzy, dreamlike, an annoying incomplete earworm of last summer's pop music running through her head. Their footsteps took on a cadence that was almost music.

She halted when the orange pig manifested on the path.

She was really losing it, now. She shook her head.

It was a boar pokémon, autumn-colored with flame at its mouth and hind end. They all stood, frozen, hands on their belts; Moriko was leading, and so it was her battle.

But it didn't look like it wanted to: it was watching them, poised to run and yet expectant.

"Trainers," it grunted, finally. "I need yer help."

 _Arboar, the autumn pokémon. A plant- and fire-type, it evolves from leaflet near level twenty-four and to svarog with age or a fire stone. Their fire abilities are a relatively recent development. They give off a mild smoky smell and will roast nuts and tubers before eating them._

"Always happy to assist," Moriko said into the stillness.

It jerked its head toward the smoke behind them. "You runnin' from the fire?"

"That's right."

"It's my kid's fault," the arboar said. "A cannibal came 'round and we killt it, an' the elder said leave it be. Ain't clean. My kid went back and ate it."

Moriko felt cold, thinking of Latna the caligryph and his human prey. But he'd been doing it wrong: a killer pokémon got stronger from eating other pokémon, not humans. So what would happen if you ate a killer? Would you get all that energy?

"What happened to her?" she asked.

"She evolved an' started burnin'. Real fire like an elder. Outta control. Gonna burn down the whole damn forest at this rate." It sighed. "She ain't the same. Reckon a trainer could help her out. Get some experience. Stop doin' damnfool things like eatin' cannibal souls."

"I… don't think we can go toward the fire," Moriko said.

Matt threw down his backpack and selected a handful of pokéballs, medicines—

"Matt—"

"Carry my bag for me," Matt said, not looking at them. "I'll meet you back at the rendezvous."

"Matt," Russ said, "are you seriously—"

"I'll be back," he said, lightly, but Maia burst out of her pokéball and fixed him with an orange glare. "It will be simple," he said, but there was something floating, detached, about his voice.

"Let's be sensible," Russ said. "We'll go with you. Technically we're getting ahead of the fire when we go after this pokémon. Right?"

"Ayup," the arboar agreed.

"We can't!" Moriko protested. "It's high-level, if it's actually setting fire to the forest!"

"It might just be temporary, from the evolution, from eating the ronin," Matt said. "I can do it."

Russ threw down a pokéball, and Matt stiffened, backing away.

"No!" Russ said, placating. "It's just—it's just Sylvia."

The borfang looked between the two of them and went over to Matt and Maia.

"Bring him back when you're done, Sylvia, and right away if he does something boneheaded."

Sylvia looked at Maia hopefully; Maia tilted her head, appraising, and then dipped her chin to the borfang. Sylvia rippled her long tail.

"Matt," Moriko said sharply. "Be smart. I'm not dying for you. Come back, alright?"

Matt smirked and gave her a sarcastic salute. Russ tossed him Sylvia's pokéball. In a moment, the borfang had leapt into the air and flown away over the treetops. _Toward_ the smoke, against all sane advice.

"Good luck," said the arboar. "He's gonna need it." It disappeared into the brush again, deceptively quick for its bulk.

Moriko wiped sweat off her forehead, suddenly feeling like she couldn't be sure if that short conversation had been real. She looked at Russ. "Can we trust it? Maybe this is all a game to them, to lure in trainers."

Russ looked out over the trees, and he shrugged his thin shoulders uneasily. "I guess we'll find out. He has Sylvia, though. She'll keep him out of trouble."

It felt like unwarranted optimism, given how this journey had gone for them so far. "Let's get to the rangers," Moriko said. "He might need rescuing eventually. Are you sure that was a good idea, sending Sylvia off with him? With an ice-type?"

Russ looked uncomfortable. "I trust Matt," he said. "He's good people. I know you don't like him, but—"

Moriko put away all her objections. He couldn't see what was in front of his face, for some reason.

"Alright. I trust _you_ ," she said. She shook his shoulder gently. "We better go."

x.x.x.x.x

Sylvia flew west, alongside the strange, erratic path of the blaze. Smoke hung over it, black and gray, with licking flames in red and orange breaking through here and there. The color depended on what the fire was eating, had eaten. He'd read that somewhere.

Matthew Reyes was aware of many sensations as he clutched at the borfang, limbs crabbed and eyes closed. Wind in his hair. The stumps of Sylvia's trimmed dorsal spines pressing into his chest. The gently seesawing feeling when she broke her glide to beat her wings, air-type energy swirling over her, over him.

That ever-present feeling of failure. He saw Sam; he saw her pokémon; he saw his pokémon, the ones that had left, that had died.

Fuck. Fuck. Keep it together.

The fear was with him, as it always was. It didn't know he was slipping his leash.

If something could be fought and mastered, would it disappear?

He opened his eyes, turned his head to look down at the treetops, watched them approach and fall behind. The void called out to him, but he didn't relax his grip; the fear didn't redouble.

Maybe.

"Are we close?" he said, his words disappearing into the wind.

She got the sense of them. "Almost," said Sylvia. "There!"

Barely visible in the smoke and haze, and through the mask of the trees themselves, was a mass of flame. It ran with a frightening speed, dodging and weaving, changing direction randomly, barrelling through obstacles.

They had to get away from the smoke. He really would die if he tried to engage the svarog as it ran west, the wind pushing all those fumes and poisons towards him.

"Good girl. Keep following, we'll get it when it runs south. Fly a little lower."

The borfang complied, dipping one wing and shifting closer to the treetops. Far below, their quarry slammed into an ancient pine, ripping a chunk of the wood out in a shower of splinters and bark. Fire licked the wound, and spread through the dry needles on the forest floor.

x.x.x.x.x

Maia jumped heavily into a nearby spruce, claws scrabbling at the wood. Behind her, the tree she'd been in toppled, fire crawling up its length.

The svarog bellowed in rage and attacked her new perch, ignoring the jets of water that the tibyss sprayed down onto it.

The monster was an enormous boar, a dark shape wreathed in flame, with smoke pouring off of and obscuring its body.

Matt spritzed Bjorn with potion and burn heal, the angry, singed wounds closing and subsiding under the treatment.

His hands shook, the impulse to run as fast and as far as possible very strong. He kept a rein on himself, as best he could, but the fear was like an animal thrashing in his mind. He worked quickly; if the thing took notice of him, it would be the end of his control and probably his life.

He'd considered the idea that the arboar had led him into a trap. It was possible; not all wild pokémon cared for humans, and many had excellent reasons not to.

Their only reprieve was that the svarog didn't seem to be able to control and launch an attack with its flame, something that all fire types took time to learn. Its physical attacks were still formidable, its triple blackened tusks razor-sharp, and it was strong enough to rip at the trunks of trees like they were sugar.

"How's that? Better?"

The ursaring rose to his hind legs, flexed his forepaws. "Is good," he grunted.

"Good," Matt echoed. "You're up again. Do you remember how to earthquake?"

Bjorn's eyes glittered under a heavy brow ridge. "At last," he said, slouching off toward his opponent and Maia.

"Don't get used to it," Matt called after him.

The ursaring roared a challenge, followed by an ordinary-looking stomp as the boar pokémon turned to face him. A wave of dirt flew up from the forest floor, ground-type energy sluicing over the svarog.

There had been a time when it would have thrown up rocks, chunks of earth, broken the ground. Bjorn had lost a lot of levels between here and Johto.

The boar pokémon staggered, faltering, and Maia hit it with a hydro pump, the bolt of water hammering it to its belly.

Did it seem to rise more tiredly? Was it burning less intensely? Matt couldn't tell, couldn't see outside his own desire to please, please, please be gone from here.

Bjorn stomped again, sending another wave of energy toward the svarog, and then used feint attack to skate out of the way of its answering charge. It was absurdly fast for its bulk, catching the ursaring on the side with its tusks and slicing him like a razor. Bjorn groaned, the sound cut off as Matt recalled him.

 _Too slow_ , he thought. "Tak! You're up!" he said, throwing out a great ball.

The honchkrow immediately angled away from the svarog and the tree it was ramming. He circled instead of just fleeing wholesale, which was progress.

Tak cawed. "Hellfrost, boss, why aren'tcha running?"

 _Great question_. "Gust, Tak, stay out of its reach. I only have so much burn heal."

"Wasted it on your bear!"

Tak flapped his wings, stirring up vortices that whirled after the svarog. The wind blew back its smoke, revealing more of its body briefly. It barely noticed the attacks; Matt was about to order another when it turned and fired off its vines to pull Tak out of the air.

The honchkrow shot up high, but he needn't have bothered: the appendages were limp and confused, swiping ineffectually. The svarog shook itself, staggering as it stepped forward a pace.

"You _are_ hurting," Matt muttered. "Maia! Hydro pump!"

The tibyss charged up another water attack, and it punched onto the svarog, exploding in a gout of steam. It bellowed, enraged, its flaming skin flaring even higher, and it charged Maia's tree.

The trunk exploded into splinters; Matt curled away and grunted as a fragment hit him. When he looked again, Maia was in another tree, her claws rending the bark as she slid down.

The svarog was waiting; it reared up on the tree trunk, tusks slashing the bark and sending wood flying.

"Maia!"

Tak came to the rescue, his whirlwind sliding onto the svarog to trap it, and he launched into a pleased tirade about the boar pokémon's unlikely ancestry.

Maia leapt away, landing in a shower of debris and trotting toward Matt.

He pulled out his pokédex at last; Maia was hurt, but not unexpectedly so. The svarog's readout was covered in out-of-bounds cautions and true-combustion warnings. Of course. What were the odds that it would stay this powerful after he caught it? Slim, knowing his luck—or it would stay powerful, and stay insane. Well, he'd always been a damn fool.

Maia stood between him and the svarog. Tak kept up his gust attacks, but the boar pokémon's health was jumping around on the pokédex screen.

"Tak, try—"

The svarog began to advance, pushing through the whirlwind—no—it was dragging the whirlwind with it, the winds spiralling its fire and smoke up into the air in a tornado of flame.

 _Are you fucking kidding_ —"Icy wind, Maia, sorry to throw you back in again."

Maia laughed, and she called to the honchkrow to move out of the way. She breathed a stream of ice onto the svarog, icicles building up on it in moments and slowing it again. It groaned, somewhere in the whirl of flame, and flared again, shaking off the whirlwind.

"Tak—"

It exploded forward like a missile, barrelling straight for him. With a twitch of its head it had thrown Maia aside.

Matt couldn't move.

Dimly, he wondered where the fear was. _Wasn't that your purpose, to keep me idle and safe?_ Endlessly it had whispered to him about the unexpected danger of ordinary things, had filled him with cold and sick dread. And when he actually was in peril, it had nothing for him.

 _I'm sorry, Maia_ , he thought.

Light filled his vision, and he wondered if he'd died already.

Time resumed, and the wind from a giant pair of dragon's wings knocked him to the ground. Sylvia leapt onto the svarog, her jaws clamping on its face, and she went rolling with it in a tumble of limbs.

They smashed ferns and ground cover, flames smoldering on the wet ground. Sylvia got to her feet first, seizing the svarog by the neck and tearing at it violently, burning ichor flying onto the ground and sizzling. Maia reappeared with a water gun attack, and Tak lashed his wings, air-type energy soaring in.

At last it lay still, and Matt remembered the ultra ball in his hand. He ignored the soon-motionless ball, his attention entirely for Maia slumping toward him, covered in blood, and for Sylvia, slashed and burned and unable to fly.

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N** : Thanks for reading! The illustration for the Svarog line is up on my tumblr/deviantart, **gaiienpokedex**. One more chapter until we're out of the re-write. :)


	12. Guilt

Chapter 11

 _Guilt_

 _—July 20th-21st 128 CR_

Moriko and Russ were halfway to the ranger rendezvous when they got a text from Matt's pokédex.

 _Syl hurt need help_

Russ's face went pale, and his hand went to his belt for a pokéball that wasn't there.

"We need to—Sylvia—we—"

Moriko grabbed Liona's pokéball and then froze. "Shit, how do we—I don't have a water-type—"

"We could—"

The mooskeg. She should've done this hours ago.

She threw its ultra ball, and it reformed, bellowing. It slumped to the ground.

"Gods," it was moaning, "gods of my ancestors, why—what is—ah gods—"

Moriko had a potion ready and some candy. "Hey! How are you feeling? So, my name's Moriko and—"

"You! _You!_ You imbecile, you walking parasite infection, you did this to me? I will _end_ you—"

Rufus burst out in orange light, intercepting the mooskeg's vines and letting them wrap around his arm.

Moriko jumped backward. "Shit—"

"Don't fight anymore," Rufus grunted. "You lost already."

"I? Lost? Against two—three!—assailants, assassins, sneak-thieves, you will see just how hard I can fight and shall continue to fight—"

 _Oh gods_. Moriko had her hands up, placating, half behind Rufus to shield herself from the mooskeg's vines and snapping teeth. "The battle's over! I'm here to heal you. Listen, I need your help—"

"My help? My help? Ah yes, what a persuasive way to ask for help—"

Rufus grunted as the mooskeg soaked him with a water gun. It started a wobbly charge and he grabbed its antler, spinning it around in a counter that left it collapsed on the dirt trail.

Moriko stepped forward again. "Listen, there's a ronin in the forest, burning it! We saw an arboar, it said its child… they all killed a ronin and its child ate it. And our friend went to capture it—"

The mooskeg brayed a bitter laugh. "Fool trainer, you run _away_ from ronin and the idiots who take up their ghost-eaten souls, not toward!"

"Our friend is stuck, we need your help, I need your water attacks to—"

"I will do absolutely nothing and you will restore me, you putrescence, you bird mess baking in the sun, you brainless, spineless streak of animal piss—"

Moriko recalled the mooskeg.

"Huh," Rufus rumbled. "It seems upset."

"Mor…" Russ said.

"I need to heal it," she said. She didn't look at him. _I need to keep it_. She blew out her breath. "What do we do? We only have Liona now. I guess I could take Conall—"

Russ shook his head. He started tapping out a reply to Matt. "No, we need to meet with the rangers. How could you fly back with Matt when Liona can't carry double?"

"Godsdammit!" Moriko burst out, frustrated, but he was right. "Let's go, then."

They made it to the rangers' camp some time later after a breathless, marathon hike. For once, there were no rangers they recognized, and their pokédexes didn't trigger notifications on scan.

The rangers had a mobile monitoring station set up, with computers showing weather and aura radar. The aura map still showed swirling fire- and air-type energy, but the juniors on screen duty assured them that it was energy from the forest fire and not the ronin. It had died or been captured.

They had a healing machine for the pokémon and rations for Moriko and Russ. A ranger-lieutenant and an adult ranger insisted on going out to retrieve Matt on their own; they took off on a large skarmory and wartinger, flying off over the treetops. Moriko watched them go with mingled annoyance and relief. Sylvia needed help, but flying to the perimeter of a wildfire was best left to the professionals.

x.x.x.x.x

Matt sat alone, shivering with pain and nausea. Maia was hurt, Bjorn was hurt, Sylvia was hurt, Tak was… not hurt, but not reliable. He'd walked away from the battle site, the stray energy sure to draw scavengers. This was pathless forest, only accessible by flying pokémon or a long, careful journey on foot, and he walked upwind, away from the smoldering destruction the svarog had left behind.

Leaving his bag and gear with Russ and Moriko for expedience had seemed smart, earlier. He hoped they'd got his text. He really did.

He climbed a tree, wedging himself against the trunk. Back in Johto, a hiker had shown him and Sam the trick to napping up there, but it had never quite worked for him. He either stayed put, sleepless, or went limp and fell. He sighed. That sounded like a metaphor for something.

The shadows lengthened as he waited; the air was hazy, but the wind didn't change direction. The more quiet, the more still he held himself, the more he felt the presences of his pokémon in their pokéballs; the more he felt the presence of the forest, a vast organism. There was a world of spirit overlaid on a world of matter, and pokémon and humans stepped between them, sometimes at their peril.

He must have dozed after all, because suddenly the light was dim, and he saw a dozen arboar looking up at him from the forest floor. His heart thudded in his chest, watching their eyes glitter in the light from their spirit flames, and he remembered that fire tended to burn upward.

Matt waited for someone to speak. He wondered if they wanted him to throw down the svarog's pokéball or release it, but he did nothing and so did they.

Eventually one put its head down and moved off, and then another and another, and soon the wood was dark again, the procession of flames departing and disappearing among the trees.

 _Were your parents sad when you left?_ he asked Maia.

She laughed, a mental ripple. _My parent had more energy than he knew what to do with, thanks to the breeder. No hard-fought-for, cherished child was I. He looked to the next egg, and I to my trainer._

 _I'm sorry._

 _There is nothing to regret._

x.x.x.x.x

The rangers returned with Matt in the evening. He was more or less intact, and he returned Sylvia's pokéball gratefully—a symbolic gesture, as it and Matt's other pokéballs promptly went into the healing machine.

The rampaging pokémon had been a svarog, the arboar's evolved form, and they studied and whistled at the database entry for it on their pokédexes. He held it back from healing temporarily; it wasn't fatally injured, so it could sit in its pokéball. He needed to meet it one-on-one, first, and a healthy pokémon could break out of the ball if it figured out the trick.

Moriko had held back the mooskeg, too. It was kind of scummy, but sometimes it was a good negotiating position. Russ was right: she should just release it, but it was strong and she needed a water-type for the fire gym. She might be able to persuade it; it liked to fight, and anyway it could leave if it really wanted to.

She had to win here. She couldn't boost again.

The rangers' captain soon came around to speak with them, a stocky, muscular guy with pink braided hair.

"Ranger-Captain Tanager, west Gaiien wing," he said, shaking their hands. "So! You're the kid who went after the ronin," he said to Matt. "That was an incredibly dangerous thing to do, and quite frankly, you risked your life for nothing. I'm going to need you to surrender that svarog to me."

A tense silence descended. Moriko watched Matt carefully not react. _How are you gonna get out of this one?_

"We met a relative of the svarog in the forest," Matt said slowly. "It asked us to capture it in the hope that it would recover from its delirium. It deserves an opportunity to learn to control its power."

Tanager raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you think a mid-level trainer can provide that better than the ranger corps?" Nevertheless, he pulled out his pokédex. "You'd be dead if you thought a ronin was just a powerful pokémon you could put to your own advantage. I respect the bond that's formed when a trainer captures a pokémon and all that horseshit."

"I'm right here, dude," a sceptile called to him across the clearing, and Tanager grinned and gave it a cheerfully rude hand gesture.

Matt's pokédex beeped.

"Meet me there outside of Russet Town tomorrow, and we'll see how your svarog is feeling after a healing and some rest. If it's still out of control, you'll surrender it to me. If you try to skip town, you'll never be able to come in range of wi-fi ever again, because as soon as your pokédex pings I'll be there waiting for you. We clear?"

"Understood."

"Good. Until then."

"I feel like we've really had rangers up our collective asses this summer," Moriko said, when they were out of earshot.

Matt snorted. "They're usually around on most routes in other regions, helping kids and passing out food and water, and berries for pokémon. I admit I haven't seen so much of this side of them, the fist instead of the picnic basket." He yawned. "Russ, I… Sylvia saved my life. Thank you very much." He bowed formally.

"You can thank her," Russ said easily. He passed Matt and Moriko each a can of juice. "And you don't get to say something like that without telling me the entire story. I want _all_ the details."

x.x.x.x.x

Russet Town, the tier four gym town, was arranged along the road up Cardinal Peak. There was an uphill climb from the pokémon center at its lower end, the road switchbacking along and lined with houses and hotels. Higher up were the entrances to the hot spring pools, and the fire-type gym.

The rangers gave them a ride into town, on flying pokémon that touched down at the pokémon center after covering the distance in a few hours. Moriko was embarrassed by how she staggered, bowlegged, off the helpful ranger-borfang's back; she really needed to get used to flying.

Moriko's mood nosedived when they saw Angela and the rest in the 'center, clustered around a table in the cafeteria. They looked exhausted, hair mussed and unwashed, with dark half-moons under their eyes. Moriko doubted her group looked much better after the night they'd spent terrified of being attacked.

Why would _they_ look tired, anyway, when Angela had the item storage device that Rachel had bought her? Moriko had had to carry everything and cut down on weight by sacrificing items and doing without. With the expensive storage devices, they could carry extra food, water, all their comforts at their fingertips. She was almost offended. What could they possibly—?

Moriko realized that someone was missing.

"…Where's Dave?" Russ asked.

"Dave is en route to the hospital in Porphyry City," Angela said blankly.

"Shit, is he okay?"

Vic laughed too loud. "The last time I saw him he looked like a slasher movie, so, not great."

Angela started crying, and Russ sat beside her and hugged her. Moriko fled; she didn't have words for them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Russ asked.

"Ophelia attacked Dave," Vic said dully, after Ange couldn't get a word out without sobbing. "Rio and Garon managed to faint her eventually. Then we used our emergency beacon."

"What the fuck," Russ breathed, his head in his hands. Dave had received Ophelia at the same starter distribution the rest of them had, and he'd watched her grow up with Sylvia and Rufus and the others. Images of Ophie as a sylpup and a timbark whirled through his mind.

Images of Sylvia rearing taller than him and coming down, jaws open, whirled through his mind. He shook his head to clear it.

"Was it a mistake? A borfang is a big pokémon…"

"No," Vic said, her gaze far away. "No, it was… sustained. She was coming for him. For us."

"Did she say anything? Did—fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry, I'll stop prodding. I just…" Russ trailed off.

"I know," Kai said. He held up Cavall's pokéball. "I want to know what he did wrong. I want to know that he did something wrong."

Moriko eavesdropped on them, around the corner of the pokémon center lounge.

It was easy to believe that Dave had done something unforgivable, something out of line, to make his pokémon attack him—that meant she was safe, because she had never done anything bad.

Hadn't she?

The mooskeg was in its ball on her hip, hurt and disoriented and trapped.

She felt sick. She took it to the healing counter.

x.x.x.x.x

"Your friends from school are back," Matt said to her.

"They're not my friends." Moriko pulled off her boots and put up her feet on the coffee table. She sighed, sinking back into the plush couch.

The pokécenter had gone for that old second-crossing mountain-stronghold look, with mortared stone walls and thick carpet and wall hangings. There were oil paintings of mountains and lakes arrayed around the room, and one depicting a hunting scene, with spear- and bow-wielding medieval people chasing rabbits, pheasants, deer, a boar. An unlit fireplace dominated the center of the room with a wide flue up to the rafters, and TVs were mounted around it playing a news channel with scrolling messages and talking heads.

It was late; a couple of other trainers passed through the lobby with a suiline and a Gaiienese teddiursa, turning in for the night. Moriko had heard the phrase 'too tired to sleep', and she felt like she knew what it meant. She'd try to just sit, get a drink from the self-serve fridge in the cafeteria, and by the time the pokémon were done healing maybe she'd be ready for bed.

"What did they have to say in there?" Matt asked.

"The pity party? Dave's borfang attacked him. They don't know why."

Matt looked at her sharply. "'Pity party'? Did Dave _survive_ being attacked by a dragon-type?"

"Sounds like it. They airlifted him to Porphyry for regen," she said, ignoring his tone.

"You don't care?"

"I care about his pokémon." She didn't look at him. "If she attacked him, it must have been for a reason."

"Harsh."

"He'll be fine. Ophelia might not be," Moriko said, thinking of Liona's brother. Killer pokémon were made, Captain Grouse had told her. Made by abuse or hardship, surely? How the fuck had the comfortable, boring lifestyle of a suburban hobby trainer done it?

"What did he do to you that warrants maiming?"

Moriko's lip curled. "Not—ugh, look, I don't care about him or that group. Sucks for him he got hurt I guess. I do not have the mental energy to waste on them."

Matt was watching her. "What did they do?"

"They were just—" She rolled her eyes. "They were shitty to me in middle school. Always. I didn't know what a friendly question sounded like then, it was always a prelude to an attack, something I'm currently reliving."

Matt laughed. "They never changed?"

"Oh, they stopped in high school. I'm sure they saw some educational video on bullying and changed their tune. But I know what they're like under the smiles."

Matt nodded. Something about his expression had softened. "I'm glad I was homeschooled."

" _Trainer Moriko Sato, come to the front desk immediately_."

x.x.x.x.x

The mooskeg had burst out of its pokéball as soon as the healing was completed, and now it was snarling at everything—the lights, the unfamiliar surroundings, the blissey and audino on duty. A wintris barked an order at it and it readied its vines, challenging.

"Stop this at _once_ ," the blissey said, throwing up dual reflect screens in the hallway. "You need to go outside—"

"Uh," said Moriko.

"Are you the trainer?" the audino demanded.

"Yes?"

"Moriko Sato?" one of the pokémon doctors—a human pokémon doctor said, a tiny woman with a severe expression. "Return your pokémon to its pokéball and come with me."

"No! No! Not again!" the mooskeg bellowed, slapping the reflect screens with its vines.

"—or not," the doctor said.

"You're fine! You're fine! No pokéballs!" the blissey roared back.

"Dr. Zadie, I _told_ you it was pokéball-phobic," the audino said, reproving.

"…You did, yes. Sorry, Li Li."

"So, you want me to…?" Moriko asked, her eyes darting between the doctor and the furious pokémon.

The blissey and wintris managed to herd the mooskeg outside into the exercise area and then turned their backs on it, ignoring it to return to their duties indoors. The mooskeg visibly calmed in the open space, swiping in their direction half-heartedly with its vines.

"You _should_ be fleeing," it said, unconvincingly.

Moriko and Dr. Zadie followed it outside.

The doctor turned toward her. "Do _not_ bring dangerous pokémon into the pokémon center! Did you even check up with it after capture?"

Moriko smiled uneasily. She didn't think it would learn to open the ball that fast.

"It did seem a little agitated, so I thought bringing it in for a healing would be best," she said. That wasn't exactly a lie.

"That is a large animal that could hurt someone very badly, no levels needed. As a trainer you _must_ exercise caution, not just for your own safety but that of those around you. Do you understand? What are you going to do next?"

"I was hoping to talk to it again—"

"Release it. Show it the deactivated pokéball and tell it to go. It is not happy," Zadie said. "Clear?"

"Clear," Moriko said meekly.

The doctor nodded and went back inside.

Moriko watched the mooskeg. It was calmer, inquisitive, watching the other pokémon in the yard and the city lights, smelling the unfamiliar night air. Moths fluttered against the lights around the 'center. The yard wasn't enclosed. It could leave at any time.

 _I_ can't _boost again. I can't. It has to be me._

She took a deep breath, and she released Tarahn.

The mooskeg's head snapped around. "So!" it boomed. "You think you can beat me a second time?"

Moriko put up her hands, placating. "No, we—"

"Yes," Tarahn said.

" _Tarahn_. I just want to talk."

"The time for talk was long before you attacked and abducted me, human trainer," it said. It walked around the yard, head raised as it peered around, more and more confused. "Where _are_ we?"

"This is Russet Town, we're a few days' journey south of where I—fought you."

"What is that _smell_? I will return to my forest at once."

 _Okay. Okay._ Moriko opened her pokédex map application and pointed north. "You'll have to go that way, the fastest route is—"

It narrowed its eyes. "Through what danger? Through whose territories? You will take me there."

"I can't right now, we're fighting the gym in town—"

"Ah yes, it is too inconvenient to guide me back to my home, but it was not too inconvenient to abduct me, to spirit me away—"

"You don't know anything about humans," Tarahn said smugly. "If you did you'd know—"

"I know many things about humans! I have heard that they send their young away to _schools_ to do battle in ferocious tests of strength and skill! They have invented dry nutriments to sate their terrible hunger, which they indulge on the flesh of animals, and they walk into our territories and abduct people!"

"No one gets _abducted_ ," Tarahn protested.

The mooskeg whirled. "Then why am I here? Why am I here despite my protests?"

"Just leave if you want to so bad," Tarahn said, annoyed. "You can tell the chansey—"

"To where? I do not recognize these trees or roots or this fire and sulfur in the air! Where is my river? Where is my wood?"

Moriko keyed her pokédex. "If you look at this map—"

"A box with colors! What does that _mean_?" it demanded.

"I'll take you back!" Moriko shouted. "I'll take you back. I will. We will go back. I will walk you there. Just. We can't leave right away. We're challenging the gym. After that."

The mooskeg sighed. "Yes, yes. I await your _convenience_."

"And…" Images whirled through her mind, of broken bodies and mangled ones, of the mooskeg screaming and groaning when she'd let it out of the ball. "…Maybe you'd like to battle the gym leader? It's a fire-type gym, you'd have the advantage." It was easier once she'd said it; she thought of Matt enticing Tak the honchkrow. "They probably haven't seen a strong mooskeg for a while. You could show them how it's done."

It snorted. "Oh please, you are as transparent as the rain."

"Are you sure?" Tarahn asked. He flopped onto his side. "Gyms and gym training are how I got strong. I beat you, after all."

"It took _two_ fighters to beat me," the mooskeg muttered, but it looked thoughtful. It shook its head, antlers yawing. "Say I fight. What then?"

"Whatever you want. I'll escort you straight back to land you recognize."

"How soon after?"

"As soon as we're rested and healed and provisioned. The next day, maybe two if something happens."

"What if I say no? I don't want to bleed for you."

Her chest tightened. _Come on—no. I'm doing it again_ , she thought. _It doesn't have to_. "No problem, I'll escort you back after we fight without you. It might take longer, though," she added. "I need a pokémon with a type advantage."

The mooskeg blew out its breath. "Ach. Very well. I will fight against your elder. Stop!" it added, seeing Moriko raise the ultra ball. "You will leave off that accursed thing this moment!"

Tarahn got to his feet, and Moriko backed away, shoving the ball back into her pocket. "It's just—to fit in buildings—"

"I will not!" the mooskeg shouted.

Moriko yanked the ball out again and keyed the app on her pokédex. _Confirm release?_ With a pulse, the color and luster went out of the ball.

"You're released! It's dead. It won't work on you."

The mooskeg looked at the ultra ball, trembling. "Prove it," it said, thickly.

"Return," Moriko said, pointing it at the pokémon. Nothing happened.

Moriko jumped as the mooskeg's hindquarters hit the ground, and it panted in huge gasps. "Disgusting. Disgusting," it whispered.

Moriko felt ill, watching it. A phobic. She hadn't understood. It was so automatic, the punctuation of conversation with a pokémon; you returned them to the ball at the end. "Sorry, I guess you—"

The mooskeg's head snapped around. " _Sorry?_ You're sorry for torturing me in that thing, in that traveling nothing? Try releasing your other thralls, next! Try not traipsing around the forest stealing children!"

"What is _with_ you?" Tarahn asked, putting his head on the side. "It's just a pokéball."

"I pity you, raigar," the mooskeg said. It sniffed. "A long imprisonment, it no longer fears the torture—"

"Uh, it's just a place to sleep. You know? When you get hurt, you find somewhere to rest and recover, right?"

"That thing is as far from a resting place as I can imagine! Perhaps you have been with humans so long you can't remember."

The fur was standing up on Tarahn's back as he argued, baffled. "No, and, you can ask Liona if you want, she just joined us—"

"Pah! Enough, pet. Find some child to gull, or better, bite your tongue out of your lying head." The moose pokémon punctuated this with a click of its teeth. It stalked down the length of the yard, toward the pool.

"So, you'll come with us to the gym?" Moriko called, following it.

"Yes, yes, you monkey. And then you will _take_ me _home_."

x.x.x.x.x

Matt watched the auras on the visualizer whirl angrily and throw out-of-bounds errors. He wondered what the techs at the Global Pokémon Database thought of the data, or if they were deleting it as an outlier out of hand. _Some hick with a keyboard is trolling us_ , they were probably thinking. He went to remove the svarog's ultra ball.

"What on earth is in there?"

Matt carefully didn't react: it was Moriko's latest mistake, the mooskeg that wanted nothing to do with her. What was it still doing here?

"It's the ronin that was burning down the forest. Were you there for any of that?"

"The other human mentioned such. You imprisoned it, I see. Cruel, but for the best."

Matt blinked, ignoring the 'imprisoned' bit. "You don't think it will recover?"

"It took up a killer's ghost, and therefore all the angry ghosts of everyone it ever ate. Better that it had died and let all those roiling souls go back to the earth," the mooskeg said.

Memory struck him, glass-sharp; he knew a thing or two about angry ghosts.

"Is there any way to fix it? It won't get better on its own?"

"If the one it ate was only in its first shedding it might still be in control, but otherwise, no. Find your elders and ask them to kill it—and keep fool children away from the carcass, this time."

Matt felt his heart sink, despite himself. The pokémon doctor had been troubled but far more optimistic.

"Can you think of any other scenario where it might recover?"

"Well…" The mooskeg turned away, thinking; it clearly enjoyed being the guru, but it seemed to want to hold this next nugget of wisdom back. "If it didn't consume the entire soul. But it's no guarantee! There's a reason why ronin are mad and dangerous."

Matt nodded, keeping his face neutral. Pokémon killing each other was rare; it was taboo, a grave transgression. But researchers suspected that pokémon did sometimes kill and consume other pokémon in secret, and return to their groups stronger, ready to challenge for leadership or to make an egg. There was a way to do it without losing control.

"Can you sense its energy?" Matt asked, gesturing at the analyzer. "Can you tell if it… ate all of the first ronin's energy? Its parent said that the energy made it evolve."

"What, those colors? More human nonsense. Just use your sight." It snorted and peered at the ball. "Using up the energy to evolve would be a good trick," the mooskeg added thoughtfully. "Maybe."

Matt nodded, taking the ultra ball and clipping it to his belt again. The challenge had rankled, but letting it out under Ranger-Captain Tanager's eye would be best to avoid posing danger to the town. Or himself. He'd have almost needed that ranger rescue even if Sylvia hadn't been hurt. He'd been racked by pain and nausea; it was still with him, like a touch of the flu. It was what he paid for going off-leash.

"Kill it," the mooskeg said, watching him. "You trainers! What does it take to get you to hear a 'no', for the godssake?"

"Ha! You're right. You're right." He looked at it sharply. "What about you, did Moriko hear your 'no'?"

"Eventually." It snapped its jaw closed, annoyed. "But she will not go back to my forest until you all win against your gym elder. True?"

"Yes, we'll take you back there, certainly. I can tell you the coordinates, and a ranger will take you now if you like," he added. _Sorry not sorry, Moriko._

The mooskeg's ears perked up at this, but it seemed to weigh the options. "I do not know this ranger, and with Moriko I have a bargain," it decided. "Though you may renege on it as easily as a murkrow," it added gloomily.

Matt laughed. "Less easily than murkrow. We will take you back. Did she ask you to fight at the gym? That way you get to test your strength against other humans, at least. Let the trip not be for nothing."

"Yes, I have heard much of your battles—to the death, in high places, under the eyes of a blood-mad crowd."

Matt flinched. "Generally not to the death, unless a serious mistake is made," he said, wondering if the mooskeg believed him. "Or if you fight someone very bad indeed." He drew a shaky breath. "Just to fainting or incapacitating injury, normally. And the machine can heal any physical damage if applied fast enough—decapitation, dismemberment, complete exsanguination—"

The mooskeg huffed. "You are exaggerating," it said, uncertain. "But I will not need it. You will see the strength of Vleridin, Thuridin's get."

"I'll be watching."

x.x.x.x.x

After a healing, the svarog reformed under the eye of the ranger-captain and several S-tier pokémon. Its smoke boiled off of it into the cool morning air, obscuring its outline, with a few details picked out in the light of its smoldering flame patches.

Matt watched it, senses screaming at him, icy fingers pulling on his innermost heart to drag him away from danger. He rested a trembling hand on Maia's shoulder, his tether to earth.

It raised its great, heavy head and black eyes to look at him, and he remembered it burning, shattering wood, crushing things underfoot.

"Where's my dad?" it asked.

x.x.x.x.x

"Why are the humans uneasy?" Keigan the springbuck asked.

"One of their number was nearly killed by his borfang—his first pokémon, whom he had raised from childhood," Maia said.

"Why would that one do that? Had he been mistreating them?"

"I would've just left," Tarahn said. "Zip out, find a new trainer, done. There's nothing stopping any of us from doing that right now, by the way." He looked at Tak, who flipped his tail feathers. "No need to go bonkers and try to kill people."

"I have recently learned the technique to open the ball," Keigan said proudly. "I can serve as tutor for anyone curious."

"We should speak with them," Liona said, troubled. "I want to hear what they were thinking."

"They were taken away already, the trainers said," Maia said.

"Convenient," opined Tak.

Maia was looking at Sylvia, and one by one the gazes of the other pokémon went toward her too. Conall the dirfox grew nervous and skittered out from between her front paws.

"I knew Ophie," Sylvia said. "I don't know why she would try to hurt Dave."

Keigan: "Why would she, when it is surpassingly simple to leave?"

"It's when you love someone so much," Sylvia said slowly. "You love them so much, that even when they make you unhappy you still love them and you want to stay. And then they're nice again and it's okay. But it's not okay, actually, because it keeps happening, and they tell you it's your fault. And you stay, because you want to fix it." She put her head down on her paws. "I saw it in a movie, with Russ. You can't imagine leaving. But if they loved you they wouldn't hurt you, over and over, the same way. And so it's better to go." Her tail thumped on the grass.

"Sounds like somebody who should've got eaten in the egg," Tak laughed. "Only weak people _let_ someone hurt them. You fight back. Do something! You can fight a human! We're all so much stronger than them."

"Shut up, Tak," Sylvia barked.

"No—he's right. They are so weak," Maia said. She looked at the newer group members, at Conall and Keigan, and Tak and Liona. "You cannot imagine how easy it is to hurt them. You will do so accidentally. And they take so long to heal, days and days. That is why they need our protection. We can get so strong, but they are so fragile. If you do not care for your trainer, just leave. The chansey can transport you anywhere or find you a new trainer."

The honchkrow whistled derisively. "Say what you mean, tibyss."

"If anyone hurts Matt, I will kill them."

x.x.x.x.x

"Do you want to come say goodbye to Angela and them?"

Russ giggled at the disgusted look Moriko gave him, but he looked a little sad.

She sighed. "Let's get this over with."

They rode rental bikes to the airport at the foot of the mountain. 'Airport' was a bit of a stretch; 'landing strip' was closer. There was a runway and a couple of pads for jumpcraft, and Angela, Vic, and Kai waited in a small building nearby. A mightyena and a security guard dozed by the metal detector, and a tiny, chattering porygon darted in and out of their pokédexes, searching for illegal modifications.

Moriko stood aside, looking at the tourism board posters inside while Russ chatted with the others, and eventually a jumpcraft touched down in a burst of sound. It let off a load of tourists, and a cleaning crew and mechanics descended on it.

Shortly it was time for three of them to leave. Russ hugged them each in turn, and Moriko stood slightly aside to offer polite goodbyes.

Angela approached her. Moriko folded her arms, looking at a point beyond her right shoulder.

"See you, Angela. Hope Dave is all right."

"Moriko…"

Her eyes flicked over; Angela looked her in the eye, searching, and finally she reached for Moriko's hand and pressed something into it.

"Stay safe, alright?" Angela said, and she left.

The jumpcraft took off a short time later, heading for Porphyry. There would be another flight back to Port Littoral. Home.

Moriko looked down at a handheld unit with a tough plastic screen and a bright yellow casing. It was Angela's item storage device.

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! There is an illustration of the Gekoal fakemon line up on my tumblr/deviantart, **gaiienpokedex** , as well as one for the mysterious pokémon from the prologue. :) There's one more chapter left in the rewrite, and then you'll be able to jump to Chapter 25 in the original Gods and Demons for a more-or-less smooth read, or you can wait for the slightly tweaked chapters that I'll keep posting to this one that might have some extra description or character scenes. Hopefully it won't fall afoul of FFnet rules about "duplicate" chapters, so we'll see what happens!


	13. Ensouled

**Changelog:** Condensed Chapter 23 and 24 from _Gods and Demons_. Continuity errors fixed. Grammar errors fixed. Some changes in dialogue and a tiny bit of foreshadowing.

x.x.x.x.x

Chapter 12

 _Never Again / Ensouled_

— _July 22nd-25th_

In the morning, Moriko followed as the mooskeg fairly skipped up the mountain road to Pyre's gym. Russ and Matt chatted behind her. She was uneasy; she'd persuaded the mooskeg to stay and fight the gym leader, but without a pokéball she had no control over its appearance on the field and wouldn't be able to perform switches if they were permitted. And it might decide to leave after a single blow, like most wild pokémon.

Well, she'd dug her hole deep enough. She needed to forget about the mooskeg and start thinking about her next pokémon. The mountains here were volcanic, reddish in places with oxides, and the air stank of sulfur from the hot springs. There were fire- and rock-types here, and it would be good to spend some time hunting.

They followed the road up through cuts in the stone. A cave led them into the gym's foyer; it was strung with mine lamps that gleamed bright and faintly reddish. The mooskeg seemed to lose her jaunty attitude, casting her gaze about irritably at the rock walls and ceiling.

"I am fighting the gym leader," she announced to the attendant, once they reached him.

To his credit, the man didn't blink an eye at this, and asked for the pokémon's name.

"Vleridin, Thuridin's get, who was Soradin's," the mooskeg said.

"And you'll be challenging at tier four?"

"Let him send his strongest, I will—"

"Tier four," Moriko interrupted, "for the three of us. His strongest is probably his first pokémon who's like level seventy," she added to the mooskeg.

"So?"

"You are level thirty-seven according to my pokédex."

"I don't understand the statement, and I won't respond to it."

The attendant took their licenses and registered them for the next three battle slots. Pyre was currently in a battle, and the attendant directed them to a waiting room. More mine lamps lit the space, which had a few chairs and locked tablets with subscriptions to this month's battle zines. The mooskeg—Vleridin—stood irritably in one corner, disliking the cave.

"I'm first," she said, "and then I'm leaving."

"Thank you for your help," Moriko mumbled.

There was a rumble behind the room's far door, and then a roar. Matt got up and opened it a crack, the battle noises suddenly coming in much more clearly.

"Wanna spy?"

They moved to the corridor to peek at the battle: Pyre was a distant figure directing a beautiful red-gold feline pokémon against an androgynous trainer with a gabite who was, frankly, stomping its opponent.

 _Fleetah, the sun cheetah pokémon. A fire- and electric-type, it evolves from servelos near level twenty-eight. It is able to match rapidash for speed. They were trained as sport hunters in a bygone era._

"Too bad about that type matchup," Matt commented. "It is a beauty."

The fleetah did everything possible to dodge the gabite's ground-type attacks. Its body was a twirling ribbon in metallic gold and bright crimson as it whirled and spun across the field, but its dragon-type opponent shrugged off its elemental attacks easily. Pyre recalled it before any of the gabite's lazy sandwhip attacks could connect, and the referee awarded his opponent the win.

The ref waved them forward while Pyre disappeared into his changing room. "Anyone want to go next," she asked, "or do you want me to pick?"

"I'm next," the mooskeg said from behind them. The ref nodded to her.

"Please head to the center of the ring when you're ready. We're doing one-on-one battles today: sudden death, no waiting." She winked.

Moriko followed the mooskeg onto the field. "Do you want me to—"

"Do absolutely nothing? Yes, that would be perfect. Wait—" Moriko started as Vleridin whirled on her suddenly. "Someone spoke to you about the battle and told you about the person battling, the red one. A different voice than yours or the other humans'."

Moriko held out her pokédex and pointed it at the mooskeg. "Mooskeg, the muskeg pokémon," it read aloud. "A water- and plant-type, it evolves from hippocalf near level 19 and into cernunnos with age—"

"It's a machine," she explained, silencing it. "It can recognize pokémon species and give information about them, and it records data about the individual pokémon it sees and adds them to a central database."

"Use it to tell me about the person I fight. " The mooskeg turned her head, watching the door Pyre had disappeared into. "I've never seen someone like either of those two who were fighting."

Moriko blinked. _Not so sure now, eh?_ "The red one was a fleetah, like the 'dex said, and the other one was a gabite, a dragon- and ground-type. Fleetah are from the desert nearby, but gabite are from… from a distant land."

"How many days' journey?"

"The desert is a few days. It would be… weeks, and then you would have to cross the sea, to get to the place where gabite are from."

Vleridin was quiet at that a moment. "Lands beyond the sea… I have heard of such, from birds, from water-dwellers. How many kinds of people are there?"

How many types of pokémon. A voice that sounded like Matt's: _implying pokémon aren't people?_ No… "No one knows. Thousands. Many professors and trainers try to learn about all of them."

Pyre came out of his rooms then, looking like he'd just showered.

"Alright, here we go. Do your best!" Moriko said, trying to be cheery.

Vleridin sniffed. "Please, get ready to watch a master at work." To Pyre: "Are you ready, red human?"

Pyre looked a little surprised, but nodded to the mooskeg. "Thanks for coming," he said politely. He was good-looking, with dark skin and fuzzy black-red hair close-cut, and he wore two crossed trainer belts on his hips like a gunslinger.

"Select your pokémon," the referee called out.

"Go, mooskeg," Moriko whispered, flicking out her fingers. She looked at the audience; there were a few people in the largely empty stands, and Russ and Matt were in the front row. Russ waved as she looked over, and Matt gave a thumbs-up. The ceiling was bare rock with hanging lights and the usual camera and energy detection setup.

Her attention snapped back to the field as Pyre's pokémon appeared in red light. It looked like a dinosaur with a rooster's head; it was covered in glossy, colorful feathers except for on its naked legs and thick, spined tail. It bobbed silently, turning its head to look at its opponent with one eye at a time.

 _Ignitrice, the cockatrice pokémon. A fire- and dragon-type pokémon, it evolves from chicatrice near level forty. They nest in active volcanoes and can often be seen bathing in magma or searching mountainsides for shiny stones or other treasures._

A dragon-type. Moriko had to close her eyes for a moment. Yes, this would happen. It was exactly what she deserved for keeping the mooskeg. So much for that type advantage.

"It's fire and dragon," she called out. "Water will do normal damage. Watch out for air-type attacks!"

The mooskeg flicked her tail stub to acknowledge this as the ref shouted.

"Begin!"

Vleridin glowed blue, her body surrounded by shimmering rings of water that sprayed outward and soaked the arena, setting up a faint mist. Her opponent squawked and raised a wing to cover itself.

"Aerial ace, Basil," said Pyre. The ignitrice bent its legs and leaped high in the air, hanging a moment at the top of the arc before disappearing into a silvery line of air-type energy. It slashed the mooskeg powerfully even as she sidestepped.

Vleridin gasped and kicked out with her hind legs as her opponent passed, catching it in the back with one hoof. It staggered as a wave of water rippled over the mooskeg's body, joining a blast from her mouth, and it was bowled over by her water pulse attack.

"Dragon tail," Pyre called.

The ignitrice righted itself, the mooskeg soaking it with a quick water gun. It started zigzagging toward her, leapt, and then pirouetted to strike her with its teal-glowing spined tail. She turned to catch the blow on her side and struck savagely with her antlers as her opponent rebounded. The cockatrice pokémon belched a reflexive gout of flame, but it was damped by the earlier water sport.

"Glare," said Pyre.

"Don't look!" Moriko said, as the ignitrice's eyes glowed yellow. A flash of power passed between the two pokémon and the mooskeg stood, held rigid, and took her opponent's following aerial ace attack hard.

"Try nature power!" Moriko heard herself saying, as Vleridin staggered upright.

"What good—" the mooskeg grunted, dodging another rush and pecking attack, "no plants even if—ungh—"

"We're in a cave!"

"Toxic, Basil!"

The ignitrice gurgled, and Vleridin flinched away, spattered by purple-black goo. She covered herself in a layer of water, trying to shed it, then bellowed as the ignitrice darted in suddenly, sinking its beak deep into her throat.

Moriko grimaced, her shoulders coming up. They formed a dreadful tableau, the mooskeg half rearing up and away, with her opponent gripping her shoulders with its forelegs in a parody of an embrace. _Not again_ , she thought. _I deserve this, trying to force_ —

A ripple went through the arena floor, and fist-sized chunks of rocks rose out of it, trailing sand as they flew toward the ignitrice.

It screeched as the rock-type attack caught it several smart blows in the stomach, and it released its opponent. A second salvo cracked it in the head as it skittered backward. It sat down heavily, dazed, and Pyre recalled it even as the mooskeg's final water gun attack came for it, more spray than stream.

"The match goes to Vleridin and trainer Moriko!" the ref called out. More quietly: "Oh boy—"

The mooskeg collapsed, her neck wound bleeding sappy ichor at an alarming rate. Moriko ran up and put a pad from her bag on the wound, spraying around it with hyper potion.

"Vleridin, I'm going to put you in a ball again—"

"No!" The mooskeg tried to stand, her hooves slipping on the sand, her neck gushing as she heaved.

"Just to get you to the pokémon center! You're dying! Stop moving!"

"Don't—dramatic—" She fell again, heaving, her eyes unfocused. "Actually… _actually_ …"

Vleridin looked directly into Moriko's eyes as she got out a pokéball and pressed it lightly against the mooskeg's flank. "Temporary, okay? I promise."

"Never. Never again," she whispered, and glowed with white light.

x.x.x.x.x

Russ and Matt were on the arena floor with some healing items of their own, and Pyre was approaching as well, when the mooskeg started glowing.

Russ squinted. "Evolving?"

"Looks… no…" Matt muttered. "Oh jeez."

The mooskeg's form grew indistinct and seemed to ball in on itself—and then rushed toward Moriko, streaming into her chest.

Moriko leapt to her feet and fell again almost immediately, her legs collapsing.

"Mor! Are you okay?" Russ called.

She shook herself, looking around like she couldn't see anything. Russ ran over just in time to help her rise, and then catch her as she lost consciousness.

x.x.x.x.x

 _There is a woman in black on the path. She is searching for something._

 _Black-robed, barefoot, she kneels in the dirt, touches plants, smells the air._

 _She disappears, appears miles away. Searching._

 _There is a woman in black on the path. Light shines; space curves, folds._

 _A long form, black, winged, rushes above the treetops. Trees bow and creak in the wind._

 _There is no sound in the wood. Nothing stirs. They know what she is._

x.x.x.x.x

 _She dreams._

 _She swims, her body undulating in the cool water. She eats water plants, roots in the muck with her front legs, pushes off the ground where it is harder. She sees a wintris on the bank, slaps the surface of the water with her fishtail to alert others._

 _The adults protect them; it has happened that a goredile or raigar or caligriff come looking for a battle might eat its weakened opponent or prey on its young. It is a forbidden thing, a wrong thing, but it happens. It is an accelerated path to power, and power is precious._

 _She is grown, richly fed by the swamp and its energy. She has four legs, broad antlers, only a stump of a tail left. She feels as strong in the green forest as in the blue water._

 _She journeys, finds power: from the land, from battles, from hidden places. Even from blood; she is betrayed, and she lashes out. Why waste it?_

 _She comes to the sea. They say it goes on forever. She enjoys the place where the sweet and the salt water mix, touches its power, and then—_

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko awoke from a confused and confusing dream. It took minutes to get her bearings, a long swim to the surface of consciousness. She tried to rise, her limbs not working properly; the signal seemed to get lost on the way there. She might have fallen asleep again, to dream of waking and struggling to move leaden limbs.

A nurse finally came for her, and she looked at him blankly as he checked her pulse and shone a light into her eyes.

"You're doing a lot better," he said. "Do you know where you are?"

"A hospital? In… Russet Town?"

The nurse nodded, entering information into the tablet above the bed. "Your name?"

"Moriko Sato. Of Port Littoral. Where are Russ and Matt? I—my pokémon—something was wrong—"

"Do you want to see your friends? I can bring you your clothes, they've been washed."

Moriko nodded, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in the papery hospital clothing. "What day is it?"

"July 25th."

"I… lost some time…"

Moriko looked up to see Russ and Matt peek around the doorway and felt instantly relieved, even to see Matt. They drew chairs up to the bed, and she let Russ squeeze her dark hand between his pale ones. She closed her eyes and steadied herself, taking a deep breath.

"Guys, what… happened back at the gym?"

"Um…"

"Your mooskeg used your body as a pokéball," said Matt, leaning on his elbows, his chin on his folded hands.

Moriko considered this and looked at Russ. "The non-moon-language version, please."

"A pokémon," said Matt, putting his hands on his head to resemble antlers, "turned into energy," he made a B-movie _bwoooo_ sound effect, "and hid itself," he covered his eyes, "inside you," he pointed at her, "and you were unconscious for two days." He slumped face-down onto the bed.

Moriko closed her eyes, raising her hands in a _stop it_ gesture. "I don't—the mooskeg—Vleridin—she was bleeding—"

"We brought you to the hospital, and she reappeared and was taken for treatment. She's at the pokémon center now, but I don't think you can see her until the doctor makes sure your brain is okay," said Russ.

"I—yes, brain injury bad, do not want. But… how…"

"Yes?"

Moriko closed her eyes. "How do you use a person as a pokéball? If that is even what happened to me?"

"What do you remember?" Russ asked.

Moriko marshaled her memories: they'd gotten ready that morning, healed and energized the pokémon; the mooskeg had gone with them up the mountain and displayed a modicum of cooperation, and then… she'd received a serious injury in battle. Moriko had tried to recapture the mooskeg—temporarily!—and then… light, and strange dreams of water and dark woods.

"It's like something from a legend," Matt said, looking down, pinching the hospital bedsheet into mountains and valleys. "Solaris and Lunaris and the Endless Night. Did you ever wonder how human heroes kept their pokémon in ancient times?"

"They used… apricorns, I thought," Moriko said.

"Supposedly apricorns are a relatively recent technique as well. Long ago, heroes would befriend elemental spirits, and in exchange for care and mobility, the spirit would protect the human—and it would battle with other spirits to grow stronger. Maybe they lived inside the human's body."

"Then… if this is… a _thing_ , why haven't I heard of it? It must happen accidentally?"

Matt shrugged. "Maybe you have heard of it, you just didn't know it by the story."

"Matt—cut it with the 'think for yourself' act—I'm so—"

Russ broke in: "Maybe no one talks about it because it's not something to be encouraged—it put you into a coma, didn't it?"

"Not quite a coma," said a woman in scrubs as she entered the room. She was looking at a handheld while walking. "Dr. Inoue," she added, shaking Moriko's hand. "Moriko, I'm glad you're awake. I bet you're impatient to get going, but first I'd like to run through a neurological checklist to make sure you're alright. Could I ask you gentlemen to head out for now?"

"Sure," said Russ. "We'll wait outside. See you soon, Mor."

"I wasn't in a coma?" Moriko said later, midway through the doctor's checklist.

"No, someone in a coma is totally unresponsive," said Dr. Inoue. "Track the green dot with just your eyes… great. You were somnolent: you would give dreamy, mumbled responses to questions and even wander to the bathroom like a sleepwalker, but it's been about thirty-six hours since your friends brought you here."

"Oh… I don't… remember any of that."

"Read through this chart, enunciating clearly." The doctor passed her a handheld, the screen covered in innocuous sentences that grew into tongue-twisters.

"What you experienced has been documented a few times," she explained, when Moriko had finished. "Luckily you experienced a minor form—in more severe cases, it's referred to as 'possession'. Usually it's a ghost-type pokémon; they take control of a human or animal by turning to energy and suffusing the matter of the victim's body. They try to draw energy from them. It can usually be chased out by another pokémon, especially by losing a battle." She held up a small speaker to Moriko's ear. "Cover your right ear and repeat the numbers you hear…"

Later: "Why am I doing all this again?"

"In severe possession, there can be some nerve damage, since the pokémon effectively takes control. You had an altered level of consciousness as well. Since you're a trainer and going to go charging into remote wilderness as soon as you're released, I want to make sure you're in good shape."

"...Am I?"

Dr. Inoue finished typing on her handheld. "Yes. Tentatively, I suspect that your pokémon, since it was injured, drew a large amount of energy from your body, which you spent time replenishing while asleep. I don't think it had any opportunity to exert control based on our observations. You don't show any signs of physical disturbance, so I'm going to say you're clear to leave, but I recommend staying in town for a couple of days, having some good meals, and resting."

Moriko nodded. "I will. Supposedly I've been asleep for days, but I feel like I could sleep for more."

"Listen to your body, then, and take it easy. Do you need anything else? Your bloodwork looks good. Antihistamines? Contraceptives?"

Moriko shook her head. "I have an IUD that should be good for a while." Not that she'd ever felt much interest in putting it to the test, but it was nice not to have to worry about hormones or periods.

"Alright. I'll let your friends back in."

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko found Vleridin in the pokémon center yard, napping under a tree. She approached cautiously; the mooskeg opened an eye and flicked an ear. She sat down nearby—not touching, but far closer than she could have dared a few days earlier.

"I'm glad you're still here," Moriko said eventually. "Are you all right?"

"Better than ever," Vleridin said, tonelessly. Not sarcasm, though not sincerely either.

"I wanted to apologize. I—I'm sorry, I tried to manipulate you, I didn't—I considered your feelings only secondary, and—I'm sorry. It was wrong, and—whatever you need from me, just name it."

A short silence.

"You might be wondering," Vleridin said, more to the pine-needled ground than to Moriko, "why I haven't left yet. And the truth is, I needed to apologize to you, as well. I ensouled you without your permission—and _that_ was wrong."

Moriko watched the other pokémon in the yard, milling in the hot tub in the cool air. Bugs were gathered around the lit lamps; cicadas sawed somewhere off in the dimness.

"What did… you do, exactly?"

"I became energy, as one does when one is weak, to recover and stave off death—but there in the cold stone there was nowhere to settle in, for one such as me: no green life, and no rich water. And so."

"Would you have died, otherwise?"

"Defenseless, I could have been drunk up by my opponent, or scavengers, and lost—or drifted formlessly trying to reach the trees outside, or water somewhere in the earth. It was not my only option but it was… safest. And you… gave _me_ energy," the mooskeg said, wonderingly. "It was a… rare thing."

"I had a dream…" Moriko said, studying the ground. "I was… there was water, ponds, swamps, a wood…"

Vleridin shifted, looking embarrassed. She curled her neck, facing away from Moriko. "Yes. I was… You struck my memories… and I struck yours."

 _My memories? What did you…_

"I walked on two legs," Vleridin added, after a silence, "and I felt useless rage and insatiable longing; long loss and deep mourning."

Moriko's stomach tightened. _Don't_ , she thought, _don't say—you didn't_ —

"And… I saw the world," Vleridin said, looking her in the eye, and Moriko stopped. "A spinning sphere, the vastness of my forests a tiny patch upon it, and I understood that sight, that bird's viewpoint, that you had tried to demonstrate to me with your colored screen.

"Let us say that we are quit," the mooskeg said, "both having committed some wrong upon the other, both having apologized—and propose a new arrangement: let us travel together, and visit strange places to see strange peoples, and take whatever strength may be found there.

"But we will walk as equals, and you will not trap me, nor take control from me—never again."

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko sighed, rejoining Matt and Russ in the pokémon center cafeteria. They had both started in on their large helpings of curry.

"That went well, surprisingly," she said, stirring her own food, "but now I have to worry about a thousand-kilo pokéball-shy pokémon."

"Considerably less cute when she wants to ride on your hat, I take it?" said Russ.

"I'll get strong carrying her, at least."

"Ripped like _Jojo's Johto Journey_ ," Matt added. "We'll have to work on our poses."

"I was surprised when she didn't immediately leave the 'center and then kept coming back to the yard in the evenings," Russ said. "Changed her mind about you?"

"…No, I don't think so," Moriko said lightly. She carefully didn't think about the memories she'd seen. "But now I'm useful to her: she got a taste of the wider world and new opportunities and opponents. I expect her to leave when her mood changes again, to be honest."

"Did the doctor say what happened to you, exactly?" Matt asked quietly.

"She said it looked like possession," Moriko replied. Matt went very still at that. "She made me go through a neurological checklist and said my scans looked fine, so she let me go."

"I have heard of similar," Matt said after a moment. "Ghost pokémon, though, not water and plant."

Moriko glanced at him. _Thank you for sharing something, for once._ "That's what the doctor said." She chewed a bite of food reflectively. "Did you guys get your badges? Where is mine, now that I say that? It didn't go wrong, there, at the end?"

Russ fished in his pockets and turned out an enameled, stylized campfire pin, with red-orange flames above a couple of creased logs. "The Pyre Badge—named after the gym leader, or vice-versa, we can't say."

"I can't keep all these aliases straight," Moriko said, pinning it to her belt. She left a space between it and the Seed Badge for the missing Venom Badge; closest to the buckle was the Dust Badge, won five weeks and a million years ago.

Matt held his Pyre Badge up. "We both lost when we came back after you went to the hospital. I want to say we were distracted, but actually Pyre is fairly shrewd—or just lucky—picking secondary types for his pokémon."

"He used a fire- and electric-type against that trainer we saw first, though, and she had a ground-type," Moriko pointed out.

"Unlucky," said Matt.

"I used Conall," said Russ, in between bites, "psychic- and ground-type, should be fine at a fire gym—but Pyre used a geysard, a fire- and water-type. It was close; Conall could sense it through the steam, but it flooded him out anyway."

Moriko checked her pokédex: a geysard was a striped purple-and-red iguana-like pokémon, constantly expelling jets of steam that it used for attacks and camouflage.

"And Maia faced a habadryad—fire- and fairy-type, but it got her with plant-type attacks. She was pouting for days."

Moriko winced at the picture the pokédex drew up: a grotesque, gnomish-looking humanoid pokémon covered in leaves and peppers, the juice of which combusted on contact with air. "But you guys went back?"

"That's right, after we thoroughly studied his known roster on the global terminal," said Russ.

"It was the usual assortment of regional and foreign pokémon in the sort of large stable that a gym leader has to maintain." Matt started listing pokémon, counting them off on his fingers. "Charizard, camerupt, arboar, antepard, pyrant, hellion, tigerlitly—but he's gradually phased out the ones that aren't a nasty surprise to trainers rolling with water-, ground-, or rock-types."

"Tyranikea, rock/fire, easy water or ground-type KO; Oxhaust, fire and steel, easy ground-type KO, et cetera—unseen for months or years," said Russ. "But he's kept the more unfortunate combinations: fire/electric, fire/water, fire/plant and such."

"So we didn't bother trying to match up types, with this implication that such a choice might backfire, and played defensively. I used Dzalar and won against his fleetah," said Matt.

Dzalar was Matt's new svarog, that fire- and plant-type boar that had been trying to burn down the forest a few days before, now well-recovered if he'd used it in a gym battle. Moriko hoped, anyway.

"And Sylvia won against his arboar!" Russ said.

"Nice!"

"I confess I was sweating and waiting for him to suddenly produce his long-inactive antepard and hit her with an ice-type attack, at which point I would have quit pokémon training in disgust," he added.

"I think we should cheat more often," Moriko said. "Losing takes so much time."

Matt shrugged. "It feels… unsporting, somehow."

"I wanted to look at Lord Ironhelm's listing so bad," said Russ.

"Ooh, the next guy. Steel-type specialist. Should we look now?"

Russ hummed, sliding his pokédex back and forth, deciding.

"I'll tell you what I know: He keeps an actual fucking castle and hosts reenactments from the so-called medieval period, which I'm reasonably certain only existed in stories," Matt said dryly.

"We saw old pictures from when Pyre started out," Russ said, conspiratorial. "He rolled with pokémon like houndoom, hellion, and trademark magpyre and ravurn as his team, and dressed like a vampire."

Moriko barked a laugh at the picture. "His cosplay needs work. I far prefer this to whatever drugs Belladonna was on, though. Gym leaders!"

Russ grinned. "It's the lack of challengers outside of the summertime. Boredom and cabin fever take over, and suddenly their pokémon are quarrying twenty thousand tons of stone and putting up mall swords and tapestries."

"Or pretending to be really spooooky," said Matt. He waggled his fingers.

"Way too spooky for me," said Russ.

"Good thing we are all perfectly sane," said Moriko. "Ha, ha."

"Ha," said Matt.

Russ wagged a finger at them. "I am perfectly sane; everyone else, however, is insane, and trying to steal my magic bag."

"It's not insane to try to steal that bag," said Moriko, pickpocketing his pokédex. "It's magic."

"The bag isn't magic and it smells," declared Sylvia. The borfang had evidently grown bored of the yard; she proceeded to mess up his hair by licking, to his dismay. "You humans busy being boring?" she said, when Russ managed to push her off. "When are we leaving?"

"When Moriko has rested," Russ said, his hands disappearing into her ruff as he scratched her neck. "We'll hang around for a couple days, and go to the hot spring and look for pokémon and stuff."

"Boring," said Sylvia, unfurling one wing to be groomed as well. "Spray a potion on it, Mor, and let's ride."

"Would if I could." Moriko smiled ruefully at the borfang, who stalked back and forth, a motion more feline than canine, to let Russ pet her down her long spined back and wood-textured tail.

"I'll get us all supplies if you give me some money—oh!" Matt snapped his fingers. "Moriko, I heard you had…"

Moriko stared at him for a moment before starting and digging in her bag pockets, pulling out Angela's storage device.

It felt strange, having it. She'd hated the devices and Angela and her friends so ferociously, and tried to see the virtue in not having one. But now…

Well, she felt a little giddy, and she hated it.

"It's you with the magic bag after all," Russ said, taking the storage device and exploring its functions, the projection casting a pale blue glow on his face.

"It still works, right?" Moriko asked. "She didn't give me a broken one as a trick?"

Russ smiled, a bit sadly. "Looks like it."

Matt cleared his throat. "How are they doing? How is your friend Dave?"

"My mom and Prof. Willow have sent me about fifty emails each, but there was one from Vic in there about how Dave's regen treatments were proceeding in Porphyry. I think he's doing okay, he should be as good as new if the regeneration goes smoothly," Russ said.

"How about Ophelia?" Moriko heard herself ask. She thought of Thalassa Heights, and the long, sterile corridors deep underground, where Liona's brother had been taken.

"She was sent to a specialty clinic in Unova, they're saying. They don't know what happened. Killer pokémon are usually a little different."

Moriko drummed her fingers on the tabletop in the ensuing silence. "What did Prof. Willow say about it?"

Russ shrugged. "She was super confused, from what I could tell in text. I think she was going to pursue it back to the breeder. You can't give kids pokémon that are just going to snap for no reason." He started pulling the paper napkin into shreds.

"I'm sure it was a one-off," Moriko said, looking at Russ and at Sylvia, who was listening to them talking, her expression alert. "It wouldn't happen to us. Right?"

"Uh-uh," the borfang said. "Never."

Moriko clapped Russ on the shoulder. "See?"

Russ kissed Sylvia noisily on her forehead, and she giggled and licked his face. "Mor," he said presently, "Angela sent me an email too, and she said that she hopes you'll call her. She said—she's going to school in late August, and she might not see us back in PL. She didn't want to leave things so weird. She wanted to help you back at the beginning of the journey."

"Yeah sure she did, that's why she tried to make you ditch me then," Moriko said, incredulous.

Russell smiled, uneasy. "It was a misunderstanding, she—"

"Russ, _seriously_?"

Matt interrupted, picking up the storage device. "This means we can cross the deep desert. There are rare pokémon there and strong ones," he said, eager. "The kinetic battery charges as you walk. These civilian models, though—they're slow, slower than a ball. Different system. We need to plan for theft or failure: we'll keep water sources and towns in mind when we plan the route, and we have our water pokémon."

"I heard the first ones used to explode in a nuclear fireball if the containment failed. True?" Moriko asked.

Matt laughed. "Come on, do you think they'd sell them at the pokémart if they did?"

"It'll be good to travel a little lighter," Moriko said to Russ. "I can't wait to head out."

x.x.x.x.x

 _Two men are in the desert._

 _They are not men, and the land knows. It shrinks from them._

 _One is steel and black ichor; the other a shadow, trailing flame._

 _Nothing stirs. Anything they see, they will destroy utterly—drink its power, no matter how minor._

 _They dispatch servants: sad, trailing things briefly useful; hooks cast, mines buried._

 _They have followers: desperate and hateful, wide-scattered on dark pilgrimages._

 _They are wrong things. They beg to be put right._

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! You could switch over to _Gods and Demons_ now and start reading at Chapter 25, but there are a few continuity errors in those chapters that will be fixed in the upcoming edits. I've posted a pokedex entry for the Ignitrice line on my tumblr/deviantart ( **gaiienpokedex** ) as well as a picture of Moriko, Russ, and Matt! Hope you like it! Let me know how they differ from your mental pictures of them so far!


	14. Interlude: The People of the Crossing

**A/N:** I've been hinting at some mythology/worldbuilding in the story so far that this interlude chapter may make more clear. You are totally in the right if you read this and think "god damn Keleri go write some original fiction already", but I think it also helps answer the question in canon of 1) where did humans come from? and 2) why does the pokémon world have such a long history but basic facts about pokémon seem to be poorly understood?

Sometimes it seems like humans (or pokémon?) have just arrived in the pokémon world, and other times people are said to have been there for millennia. (The DPPt games even claim, memorably, that humans and pokémon used to be the same.) Like most competing theories, I propose the answer, _Por que no los dos?_

Ancient pokémon (or _daikaiju_ , "great strange beasts") are based on the giant pokémon from the first season of the anime.

x.x.x.x.x

Interlude: The People of the Crossing

Gaia and Terra are two planets connected by an incredible distance and none at all. An enormous amount of power is needed to break through to cross between them, but all around us are, overlaid like pages of a book, other Gaias and other Terras, and other earths yet unnamed by explorers. Humanity has always explored, looking out at land and sea and sky and the stars, and finally our gaze turned toward a new frontier, of new and unexplored planets only a breath away.

But like our ancestors striking out into the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, so too was there danger and deadly forces we could not imagine. The loss of the First Crossing, that deserted Roanoake of those early days, told us as much, and so too were the incredible discoveries of the fractured Second Crossing obtained at great cost. But the people who stayed discovered even more, who we thought were going to their doom, but instead survived in a strange land with new and indispensable allies.

And when we, the Third Crossing, arrived, they showed us how to survive and how to thrive, and how to do more than thrive: to create, for the first time in human history, a society where the vast majority are cared for and do not suffer under food or economic insecurity, where clean water, autonomy, security, and education are human rights, and freely available to everyone under the aegis of a cooperative elected government.

We had a rough start. We vowed not to repeat the sins of the past, but pain and fear got the better of us, as it always does, and as it will again—but we will always fight, and hope, that one day it will not. And the strange life forms of Gaia, these elementals with great and terrible and wonderful powers, who helped the Second Crossing survive and shortly the Third Crossing too, and all the people of Gaia united at last, protected and cared for, they showed us the way, and they will again.

On this fiftieth anniversary of the founding of Saffron City, I thank pokémon once again for putting up with humanity, and I look toward this year's crop of new trainers to learn from the past and to look toward the future, and to put your skills to the test so that they can continue to protect and serve everyone in our beautiful new world. I look forward to sharing this adventure with you. Let's go!

 _—Speech by Professor Maggie Druyan (Spruce I) at the Saffron City Golden Jubilee, 51 CR_

x.x.x.x.x

 _Partial transcript of HIST202 lecture by Professor Aaron Singh (Holly III)_

"The initial assays were done by drones, and the temporal anomalies weren't noticed until much later—they were smaller in magnitude—the drones would go through the breach for an hour and come back with 70 minutes of data, for instance. The First Crossing was a group of about two dozen people, survivalists and wilderness experts who would set up a base camp for the next group, due to arrive in about six months. Six months passed. Then nine. After a year, someone went back—crossing meant opening the breach, which depleted fuel that they used day-to-day, but eventually they decided to risk it—and that person, returning, found that barely a month had passed on the Terra side.

"When they returned through the breach with a rescue party, the First Crossing camp was entirely gone, with only a few scattered items long-disused and overgrown, and no trace was found of the people left there.

"The Second Crossing was better prepared: with the temporal anomalies clear, they set out with more technology and resources to fall back on, and a clearer understanding of what it meant to cross. One could come back, to resource-depleted, climate-changed Terra fairly easily, but years would pass on the Gaia side. And it still wasn't clear what had happened to the First Crossing. They were wary. But months turned into years, and they founded towns on the rich shores and rivers and scarcely had to farm, and the animals were nearly tame and unafraid of them, in a world untouched by humans since its beginning.

"But soon they found that there were more than animals on Gaia: there were monsters, lizards with fire breath and walking plants. Even as they sought to understand these wonders, the first _daikaiju_ appeared, living hurricanes and forest fires that nearly obliterated all they had worked for, and they could guess at last what had happened to the First Crossing.

"Some returned to Terra, but others discovered the secret of befriending monsters instead of fighting them. Some learned to command armies of elementals and people, to tame the aggressive ones, and finally, to subdue the _kaiju_ instead of running. And the Second Crossing made them their war-leaders in a world perpetually at war, their dukes and caesars.

"Centuries later, from their perspective, we arrived—the people of the Third Crossing.

"We were different. The survivors of the Second Crossing had returned a year or two ago, from our perspective, and they told us about monsters. We were people desperate enough for land and skies unmarred by pollution, landless people, people without citizenship, people who didn't exist.

"We came prepared, of course. The best weaponry of modern Terra: guns, drones, cybernetic implants, combat enhancements; doctors filled us with augmentations, the better to survive in a hostile world."

x.x.x.x.x

 _Excerpt from_ We Are Explorers _by E. Mordvinova and C. Muomelu (Linden II)_

The temporal distortion was well-known by the time the Third Crossing was organized, and a new breach was established with stabilizing factors that would allow a large number of colonists, soldiers, supply vehicles, agricultural vehicles, animals, etc. to pass through over the course of about a week without significant disjoint, and option for a quick abort if the same problems with destructive entities arose.

The analogy of dimensional travel is thus: a pencil pierces two sheets of paper to form a path between them; so too does the breach link the sheaves of two worlds. The problem of temporal distortion might be analogous to both those papers rotating out of sync, and so initially the pencil length that joins the papers is very small, but it grows as they twist away from each other. Although the time spent in this "throat" is instantaneous, the "length" of it growing as the dimensions fall out of sync creates dangers that are still poorly understood. "Old" breaches have been used successfully to travel backward to Terra, but they expose the user to what is hypothesized to be a hostile extradimensional environment that is wholly unexplored and uncharacterized.

The Third Crossing was aware that the Second Crossing had survived and that they had established towns and cities. It was not until communications were established that the real extent of the temporal distortion was realized, and how disparate the people were from the original settlers.

The Third Crossing arrived at a time when the people of the Second Crossing were in a period of expansion. The construction of large ocean-going vessels had been forgotten for hundreds of years after the initial destruction, and a long history played out while restricted to a single landmass. However, with the help of pokémon, eventually this technology was rediscovered and the Second Crossing made more and more distant journeys, sparsely colonizing new continents, or returning to bring word of barren, elemental-less lands, or not at all.

The emergence site of the Third Crossing was the Kansai continent. They found a country with only a few Second Crossing villages already established and a generous people living on what came to be called Vermillion Bay. There the inhabitants survived on rich seasonal seafood, and only engaged in a little hunting and farming to add variety.

The Third Crossing had overprepared, ready for disaster and death: they had expected the tougher soils of Terra that required reinvigoration to grow anything, collapsed fisheries, extinct animals, hardship, famine. The richness of the new world caught them off-guard. They did their best to integrate with and learn from the people of the Second Crossing. One of the stated goals of the colonization effort was to avoid the kind of environmental abuse and unsustainable exploitation that had ruined Terra, and their harmony with nature appealed to the Third Crossing's leaders. It was a hopeful attitude, but also a practical one: the people of the Second Crossing had survived for millennia in the face of all the legendary dangers that the original refugees had reported, and so it was vital to learn how they might protect themselves.

Children and adults of the Third Crossing were bonded to pokémon for the first time. In the days before pokéballs, most people could only bond with one or two, if at all, and the search for a compatible monster could be arduous. People who could support four or more were considered "adepts". Traditionally anyone with such abilities was scouted and sent to a master in the capital of Nalea, the main Second Crossing region, but that order had broken down in the distant colonies. Further, the Third Crossing governing body rightly judged that they would be seen as a threat by the lords in Nalea, not as allies and bringers of otherworldly comforts as the Kantonian people did.

The Third Crossing built dense cities in ecologically insignificant areas and preserved vast tracts of virgin wilderness. They were able to survive a handful of ancient pokémon incidents with the help of the Second Crossing and pokémon, as well as modern technology, and became confident that their preparation had been sufficient. The development of nearly-modern pokémon training and the wide adoption of apricorn balls were also progressing at this time. Overall this was an idyllic period, where it seemed that the fears regarding Gaia's "monsters" and the potential for the Third Crossing's arrival to be violent or even genocidal had been assuaged.

The ancient ho-oh that destroyed Saffron Town was a _kaiju_ of _kaiju._

Although there existed records of encounters with other ancient legendaries and Primal legendaries that were often fatal, none of them had ever threatened a major human settlement. And not just any easily-evacuated village, but the center of the Third Crossing's activity on Gaia, and the repository of the modern technology and knowledge they had brought from Terra.

The Third Crossing's primary residential, commercial, and industrial areas suffered catastrophic damage. It severely damaged critical infrastructure and left thousands without running water, electrical power, etc. for months. The ho-oh emitted extreme heat that caused marine life die-offs in Vermillion Bay and sterilized the soil along its path, and the water vapor and ash it generated was lifted high into the atmosphere and caused unusual weather all over the globe.

If it had appeared earlier, the operation would have been abandoned, but the damage was severe but recoverable. However, it was immediately obvious that the Third Crossing had been far too centralized. A number of important data backups were lost or almost lost due to their proximity to one another. The Third Crossing governing body immediately began developing plans to spread out throughout Kanto and Johto, so that a similar attack could not again be so decisive. (Unfortunately, Saffron City eventually grew into Gaia's largest and densest metropolis, and it could see severe casualties today if its defenses were to fail.)

This expansion brought the Third Crossing into conflict with the Second Crossing in Kanto, and notably with the powerful steel- and dragon-cults in Johto, leading to decades of back-and-forth aggression. Technological development focused on the rapid evolution of anti-pokémon devices, as well as black-market distribution of modern ordinances to Second Crossing groups, and the militarization of pokémon usage among the Third Crossing. The biological manipulation of pokémon was also explored and led to the creation of the first human-designed pokémon, Mewtwo. Ironically it was this pokémon, designed to be a weapon, who was able to end the conflict through diplomacy.

x.x.x.x.x


	15. The Far Road

**Changelog:** Chapter 25 from _Gods and Demons_. Continuity errors fixed. Grammar errors fixed. Changes in dialogue to make the exposition fit better.

Chapter 13

 _Gifts / The Far Road / The Last Homely House_

 _—July 27th-31st 128 CR_

Matt saw the scavengers first: not the winners of a battle, but stragglers ready to take an extra bite of power from a beaten opponent. They could go too far, usually accidentally. Usually.

He followed the birds, a buzzurgh and a couple of magpyre, view ascending and descending as he crossed hills and slid into valleys. Maia led the way, frost crackling where her paws fell, the long grass bending and falling. The scavengers honked at her and hurled insults before flying off.

It was a pokémon, dirty and sodden, sprawled in a depression between drumlins. It was on the verge of that dissolution into energy that trainer slang called "fainting" for the physical collapse directly proceeding it; indeed, Matt wasn't sure why it hadn't already done so. His pokédex read its vitals as critically low. A fainted pokémon returned to energy and buried itself in some medium amenable to its elemental typing to regain strength, while one that remained in physical form felt its wounds, its stamina ebbing until it was forced to faint.

He sprayed its oozing wounds with a bit of potion and watched as they closed up. The pokémon stirred after a moment, blinking red eyes.

"Yo," Matt said. "Want some food?"

x.x.x.x.x

"Rufus! Counter!"

The oxhaust readied himself for the bosstrich's blow, only for it to dance out of the way again. Moriko sighed in annoyance, watching the wild pokémon bluff-charge and feint over and over.

" _It_ probably wants to use counter," she muttered.

"This is worse than that restoruler-restoruler battle at the festival that time," Tarahn commented, swiping lazily at a passing dragonfly.

Moriko laughed. They'd walked out on that one, the healing and regenerating rate of those pokémon too high and their attack power too low. Whoever had organized those battles had to have been kicking themselves for not setting a time limit.

"Ember!" she called.

Rufus spat a burst of flame at the bosstrich; it was a weak attack but fast-moving. The embers connected and it squawked, leaping into the air dramatically. It kicked up a huge sand-attack as it landed, and then tore off and away over the prairie. They could see it run for a while before it disappeared behind the hills.

"Oof. So much for that," Rufus said. He smoldered gently, a wisp of smoke trailing out of the forest of metal tubes on his back.

"Did you take any damage?"

"Nope, just"—Rufus sneezed—"sand in my armor."

They headed back to the campsite. The mooskeg had found them a nice spot; it was near a river and lined with trees for shade. Matt had brought in a new pokémon, and all the others out of their pokéballs were giving it the usual polite I'm-not-looking-at-you-but-really-I'm-interested treatment. Moriko joined in by not staring as she brushed the sand out of the joints in Rufus's steel faceplate.

 _Dragoon, the baboon pokémon. A dragon-type, it evolves to drillgon near level 50. Raucous and violent, they have a well-developed sense of social standing and will battle in hopes of raising it. The leader has the brightest markings and the silkiest fur._

It had intensely colorful skin, but unlike the picture in the pokédex it was totally hairless. It had an apelike posture, but its clawed hands and feet, spined tail, and reptilian skull all pointed toward its dragon typing.

Matt had given the dragoon a can of coconut water, and it sipped awkwardly. Pokémon ate rarely, and they only had an 'in' tube and not an 'out' one, a feature that set them instantly apart from all but the most primitive animals, to say nothing of the whole elemental manipulation thing. Unlike the human animal, whose hunger was never-ending and who yet perversely grew tired of camping fare, pokémon seemed to gain vitality passively, from pokémon center healing and from resting after battles. But they often enjoyed treats, energy-dense food like sugary berries, butter, even insects.

Moriko glanced at Vleridin, her new ally. Their truce had held these last few days, the mooskeg's mercurial moods leading her to comment and complain about every new topological feature or ecological variation they encountered. She had walked the whole way with them, something Moriko had thought would waste energy needed for battling, but now wondered if it would benefit the other pokémon to do as well.

Vleridin had demanded they stop several times claiming that there was a "power" nearby that she could commune with. The areas were unremarkable: little grottoes or clearings or ponds in the forest, pretty to look at—they had snapped photos with their pokédexes—but surely not, what, an energy source? But Vleridin had shown Maia and Sylvia how to do the same, though she disdained the part-fire types, Matt's svarog and Russ's newly caught geysard. The tibyss and borfang had responded positively, so it seemed that there was something to it after all.

They were out of the mountains now, in foothills covered with grass and wildflowers that smelled of strawberry plants and catnip in the sunlight. The forest was behind them, although stands of trees persisted around the water-courses, dark smudges on the horizon that they stopped at cautiously to refill water bottles.

Soon this would be behind them too, the grass thinning and leaving only scrub and gravel. Moriko suspected that the mooskeg would leave them then as her plant- and water-type "sources" disappeared.

Russ was currying Keigan the springbuck, who stood lazily as the round brush massaged his blue and pink coat. Russ's geysard was nearby; it had joined on their last day in Russet Town after a short battle. Sauza was a typical catch, an adolescent pokémon leaving its place of birth and looking for a trainer to travel with. It occasionally hissed, steam escaping from its bright orange body.

"How are you doing?" Matt said to the dragoon later, as they prepared to hike out.

The dragoon sat sprawled with a profound tiredness, not the indolence of the other pokémon. The potion had taken care of its physical wounds, but there was something more. It turned to regard Matt and put its head on one side, as if considering.

"Were you hurt after a battle?"

The dragoon looked away.

"Do you need to rest here longer? … Is there a place you want to return to? Family? I can send a bird to meet them, call them here."

No response.

"Want me to leave you alone?"

The dragoon's breath caught, then it sighed. "Where are you going?" it whispered.

"Through the desert, to a town on the sea," Matt said.

It shook its head, as if to dislodge a fly or a trivial idea. "Anywhere but here. Take me away."

Matt's eyes searched the pokémon. "…What happened to you?"

The dragoon's head swiveled; its eyes met Matt's and held. It opened its mouth for a moment, teeth covered, in a gape of ironic amusement. "They gave me up. They beat me, called me baldy, and dumped me there. A gift. Take me away, trainer."

There was a silence; the other pokémon, not yet recalled, all stood or sat watching the exchange. The dragoon curled in on itself, hiding its eyes from all the stares.

Liona was the first to approach. "A gift for whom?" the nigriff asked, speaking softly, drawing close but not enough to be threatening.

The dragoon looked at her a moment, then smirked. "I think you know—I think you know better'n most."

Liona's head snapped up; she stood rigidly, her thin, scaled legs pressed together. "You are mistaken," she hissed.

Vleridin joined them. "It's true then? They are abroad?" she said, with great interest.

" _What_ are we talking about?" Moriko said, looking from speaker to speaker.

The dragoon made a sound, then stopped and looked away.

" _Seriously,_ " Moriko said.

Liona shifted, uncomfortable, and preened her black and red-brown feathers briefly. "When we met, Moriko… My brother was…" She glanced around at the other pokémon.

Moriko went to the nigriff and patted her neck. "You can tell it to me, or to them, or not at all," she said quietly.

Liona considered a moment, and then she spoke. "We were forced to leave our home. Our parent… he was killed, and we had nowhere to go." She shook her wings angrily. "We had nothing!" she said. She looked around at the other pokémon, as if challenging them to say something, but only Tak squawked dismissively, and he didn't count.

"My brother heard… whispers. In the dark. We met loners who said… there was more power than just sources. More power than battling. The old masters, back again, and power for those who would serve them."

"Who are the old masters?" Moriko asked.

Liona trilled, uncertain, but Vleridin broke in: "Ha! They imagine the demons have returned?"

Scraps of old legends came back to Moriko: the dangers of Gaia, legendaries and ancient pokémon, ghosts and ronin. But everything lost its intrigue with study: ghosts and dark-types were just pokémon, and ronin were sad and friendless more often than not. Most of the legendaries had been tamed, and ancient pokémon were just part of nature, fatal if you were unlucky or in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Demons, though; demon pokémon were pokémon that couldn't be controlled or tamed, pokémon that preyed on humans as a matter of course, not aberrance.

"Uh, have they? Returned?" Moriko asked.

Vleridin tossed her head. "No, no. They're long gone."

Russ was listening with interest. "What _are_ they?"

"Humans know nothing. How to explain… There are people like us," Vleridin said, "of great power and renown, of rare form."

Russell nodded. "Legendaries."

"And they are merely servants of greater powers, of gods and demons from a bygone age," said Vleridin, the rising sun streaming across her antlers as she warmed to her role. "They left us long ago. These are old tales, old lore; I heard it from my parent, who heard it from hers, who heard it from him who was her parent, and so on. Once, we were their servants, but the gods and the demons left, and left us choice—left us freedom to grow power, or to take it."

Russ: "To… grow power? Like from a seed?"

Vleridin tilted her antlers to one side and then the other, considering this. "Yes and no," she said, "to grow it within yourself through community with others, or with the earth and its places of power—or through battle and the exchange of blows, which sows yet more energy within you, even if you lose, and of foreign type, the better to become greater, to gain rare powers."

"Or you can kill your opponent," said Liona quietly, "and take all their energy for yourself."

"This takes a certain amount of power to be even able to do," said Vleridin professorially. "But from there the growth is fast indeed."

Moriko glanced between them, incredulous. "Why would—why would anyone _kill_ , if you can get stronger by lying in a pond?"

"That way is wholesome, but it is slow," Vleridin explained. "And one can battle, but if one loses—can you trust your opponent not to kill you? How do you get strong enough to protect others? Where do you journey to seek new power when the forest ends, if the sources you need end with it? This one had evil done to her"—she jerked her head at Liona—"and had she not joined with you, where could she grow safely?"

Russ looked over at the dragoon. "And what happened to our new friend?"

"A gift for a servant," the dragoon said, huskily. "To suck up. To get rid of garbage."

"You were weakened," said Matt, "and ready to be consumed—when you turned to energy, it would have—"

"Strange thing," said the dragoon. "Strange to be so close to death. Nowhere to run." Its eyes focused on Matt, pupils narrowing. "Dangerous, what you did. The… servant had to be right there."

" _I_ was right there," said Maia.

"What power, and what servants?" Moriko demanded. " _Are_ we in danger?"

"Not… immediately, I judge," said Matt.

"We are too many and too strong for the single servant," Vleridin confirmed. "But we stole a gift. It will be remembered."

"If it is a power," Dzalar rumbled. Moriko jumped at the crackling bass voice from the constantly-smoking fire- and plant-type boar. "These are common rumors that appeal to those that lack strength. Youngsters dreaming of easy battles. Ronin dreaming of revenge. Rumors started by children who think that someone highly trained by humans is a god. They are passed around every year by the wind and the credulous. There are always those who will do evil without need of demons to walk the land in shadow."

Liona looked at the ground. "My brother believed such tales. One day he left… and when he returned, he was not the same. After each kill, he was stronger than ever… and he heard a voice in the dark, praising him."

"Did you help?" Vleridin asked, frank.

" _No._ "

"When they… when they captured Liona's brother, the ranger-captain and the pokémon said that it was pointless for him to kill humans. Why'd he do it?" Moriko asked.

"Can you _get_ power from killing humans?" Russ asked.

Liona grunted. "He claimed they gave the most energy. Or he'd be rewarded separately. I don't know."

Moriko shifted uncomfortably; she felt the eyes of the pokémon on her, appraising.

"Humans have _no_ energy," Dzalar said, rising. Flame smoldered underneath the smoke streaming off her hindquarters. "It's why they can't perform attacks, why"—she turned her head, and engulfed Matt in red flame—"energetic attacks do nothing to them."

Indeed, the fire had left him quite unharmed, although it had looked very dramatic.

Matt waved smoke away from his face as if nothing had happened. "Only high-level pokémon can hurt humans with their special attacks—but even Celeste could hurt me very badly with a physical one," he said, referring to Russell's celestiule, who had hatched only a few weeks ago.

"No, no, it's like this," said Tarahn, sitting up, the bells on his mane and tail jangling. "See, humans have high special defense, right—they can't be hurt by low level attacks. But they have low defense, so you can weaken them easily with a blow."

"No."

"That's stupid."

Tarahn pouted. "Tough crowd."

"We're animals, not elementals—we don't dissipate or transform when we die. No energy," Matt said, shrugging.

"Exactly, it's pointless," said Vleridin. "You are soft and easy to kill—if it were that simple, everyone would do it. No offense."

"My people heard a voice, too," said the dragoon. It spread its claws, as if to say "and so". It grunted. "You helped me. You should know they might be angry."

"We should get moving," Matt suggested, after a silence.

"What do you think?" Moriko asked Vleridin later, hoisting her backpack onto her back and adjusting the straps. "Did they really sacrifice one of their own to a demon? _Are_ there demons?"

"I think there are those who _think_ they serve demons abroad in this country," said Vleridin, "and they are dangerous enough. But we have a strong party here—there would have to be more servants, more than mere whisperers to pose us harm." She sniffed. "The dragoon's people might have sympathies for the demons—or they were eager to be rid of him, and sought an excuse. We should watch for attack, and we should watch him. They might have outcast him for a better reason than hairlessness."

"I'm glad you're walking with us," Moriko said. "We needed your knowledge."

Vleridin whuffed. "Please, I am entirely immune to your flattery. Shall we?"

x.x.x.x.x

They had several of the pokémon out and walking with them, testing the benefits of such, when they were attacked by the dragoon troop. A disorganized charge from a hidden position behind a hill was preceded by screeching, roars and colorful insults regarding the identities of their opponents' major and minor parents.

Maia breathed an icy wind into the troop, which halted the charge comically: the dragoon attackers yipped and cried at the cold air. Keigan followed up with a few well-placed gust attacks that sent them screeching back up the hill, with Tarahn's electric arcs following them.

The defector dragoon didn't take part, pressing itself into the grass and trying to remain out of sight. The troop gathered at the top of the hill, clustered around a drillgon—the evolved form—that towered above the rest, armored with metal-shod arms and shoulders. It watched them for a moment before turning its back and walking away.

The troop chattered, some following the drillgon, others taking up lounging positions on the top of the hill. A few were inspired to throw stones that fell short of the trainers, and then called out insults to the hairless dragoon. Eventually they tired of the game and loped off into the grass, invisible except for their long tails, held straight up and slashed with bright colors.

"I'm sorry," said Matt, when the troop was out of sight. "I would like to be your friend. I'm Matt. Will you come with us?"

The dragoon shrugged. "Forget 'em," it said, and started knuckle-walking along their original path.

x.x.x.x.x

A few more days brought them to the edge of the desert. The plains had grown dryer, colors fading. Trees and stands of them by water were rarer, and finally the land dropped off into cliffs and scree, with pillars and tent rocks dotting the ground beyond, and dark sand between them. A trainer wayhouse marked the route boundary, and they stopped to replenish their supplies and water. Pokémon were waiting for a fight at the door, a dark- and poison-type buzzurgh and a couple of ground- and psychic-type soiote who ran off after a few moves.

The wayhouse was a half-cylinder half-buried well back from the cliffside; its locked door opened after a brief consultation and a scanned pokédex. A small foyer lay inside, with a healing machine and space for shoes and bags. Beyond was a kitchen and eating area, and then rows of bunks, and finally a storehouse and water tanks. It looked like it could sleep several groups of trainers at once, although it seemed sad and empty with just the three of them and Vleridin, and shortly they had most of the pokémon out to make it feel more lived-in.

"This would be a great base camp if we were hunting for pokémon out here," Russ commented as they filled up on water, and selected food and supplies from the storehouse.

According to the regulations posted, they were entitled to a certain amount per day and any extra would be charged against their accounts with the league, tracked with tags on the wrappers. Any tampering would be charged plus fines against their accounts the next time the house was visited or inspected, etc. etc.

"Lots of ground-types around here," Moriko said, selecting a roll of dried, pressed fruit. She twitched Tarahn's tail when he seemed to be getting too nosy into the wrapped and boxed stacks of cured food. "We'll probably see plenty in the desert too."

"Matt was saying we should probably avoid lingering there, so this might be a good place to train a bit before rushing through."

Moriko nodded absently. The storehouse had a good selection of the traveling food that she liked (that is, food didn't mind as much, or was as tired of), and they had other appalling luxuries tonight: pizzas from the deep freeze, cold sodas, and dessert. If Russ wanted to hang out here for a couple days it was all the same to her.

The wayhouse had full power in the sunlight, and they were running the oven and the AC at the same time while the smell of the pizzas cooking wafted through the rooms. The dragoon, Sai, was slowly inspecting the inside perimeter of the wayhouse—it might have been the first human building he'd ever been in—and Keigan and Celeste were curled up on the floor, dozing. Moriko brought out sodas briefly chilled in the deep freeze, while Matt showed Russ something on his pokédex.

"Check this out, Mor, Matt took a picture of the guestbook at each of the places we've stayed," Russ said.

It was strangely sobering. The pokémon center at Umber Village was sparse, and then Verdure Town's was busy, while Porphyry City's went on for several pages just for one day. Moriko saw familiar-looking names and profile pictures, trainers she'd battled or saw in passing. But at the wayhouse on the Lacuna Sea there were fewer names, and then in Russet Town still fewer, and now only a few scattered visitors here at the edge of the desert.

It was strange not to see Angela, Dave, Vic, and Kai just ahead of them, or the other faces they'd grown used to seeing again in the campgrounds. It was possible that they'd passed ahead of the pack, but Moriko couldn't shake the feeling that the others had gone home with good reason.

She thought of Angela back in Porphyry, confronting her, in what she only belatedly realized had been an attempt to convince herself to leave for home. After what had happened to Dave, it looked like her gut feeling had been right after all.

Moriko felt a little prickle run up her back. No, she still didn't care what had happened or was going to happen to that group, but… she did wish that Angela had gone home after Porphyry. If only for Ophelia's sake.

"These people were here quite early," Russ said. He was pointing to a pair of names with the same registration date on the wayhouse record panel. "Skipping school?"

"April is a good time to cross the desert," Matt said. "The days aren't as bad. They might be from another region—it's very convenient to go slightly off-season, you just make an appointment with the gym leader and there's no waiting. You could do all eight badges in three weeks if you were a professional and didn't stop for wild pokémon."

"Are we ahead, or are people dropping out?" Russ wondered, echoing Moriko's thought. "I don't blame them, it's hard to backpack for weeks and weeks."

"It's hard on the rest of us to withstand your stank," Sylvia said, wagging her dragon's tail and sniffing under Russ's shirt, who shrieked playfully. The borfang was just able to fit in the wayhouse; she'd have to learn how to shrink herself, as some pokémon could do, as she grew older and larger.

Moriko glanced at the photos again. "Lots of people not even doing the whole league, just hanging out in Porphyry."

"Most people in their own regions take like four or five summers, getting a couple badges at a time, before they head to the tournament and the elites," said Matt. He cracked a soda and went over to check on the pizzas. "We're kind of crazy to try to do it all in a couple months, to be honest," he called.

"They start going to gyms when they're twelve, though, and have their mom or dad in the stands," Moriko said.

"We probably won't finish, but we can give it until the end of the summer," Russ said. "After that I'm heading home to go to university in Hoenn," he said to Matt.

"Oh yeah? What field?"

"Forestry, and this girl is coming with me." Russell growled and scratched Sylvia's scale-covered forequarters; the borfang arched her back and pretended to try to bite him, bright yellow eyes wide. "I'd be able to come back to Gaiien for a career if I wanted, but we'll see."

Vleridin looked at them curiously. "Why would you stop? I thought you people were all battling, all traveling." She nudged Moriko with her snout. "Are _you_ stopping?"

Moriko shook her head, sipping her cucumber soda. "I never liked school. Maybe when I'm starving in the streets, I'll sell you all and go to a technical school on the proceeds. This one will fetch a fine price," she added, putting one of Tarahn's paws over her shoulder like a fur stole.

The raigar purred and rasped his tongue across Moriko's face.

"Ow!"

"I never understood pokémon traders, considering pokémon are quite happy to join up with a trainer of their own accord and just as happy to leave again, regardless of whether you've paid or traded for them," Russ commented.

"It's complicated," Matt said, "you're paying for the license of the pokémon, trainer to trainer, or trainer to trader, or trainer to breeder, but that license is nullified instantly if the pokémon wants to leave. It's sort of a courtesy to the trader, a payment for their labor, but it doesn't constitute any kind of binding contract with the pokémon. I'm not a fan; it sort of sets up the idea that you can own a pokémon."

Uncomfortably aware of her own lapses recently in allowing a pokémon to do what it wished, Moriko stepped out of the wayhouse. The sun was a receding glow, and a warm wind pushed past her comfortably while the first stars were appearing at the horizon. "I'm sorry," she said, realizing Vleridin had followed her.

"We already had that discussion," Vleridin said, lying down on the warm stones at the wayhouse entrance. "Just remember what you owe me: power, and healing machines, and lands beyond the sea."

They were silent for a while as more stars appeared; chirruping grasshoppers buzzed in the grass, and the wind spun it into waves in the distance.

"Earlier, you said something about—sources. How you can't journey if they end," Moriko said.

Vleridin flicked an ear. "Well, yes. How could the geysard leave behind the fires that birthed it without a trainer? I need water, green things. I should turn around here, by any sane reckoning, but we are past sanity." She snorted, enjoying a joke. "Gods—you all need water. What happens when it runs out?"

"We have—you, we have water-types, and we can find oases."

"How do you know?"

"They're—they're on the map, and water-types can sense them, so we'll know if we're on the right track."

Vleridin snorted. "Ach, _maps._ My herd and all its young for a map. Not all sources can be sensed and not all people can do the sensing, and even with a destination—the way is long, and there be monsters. But, with these people"—she tossed her head to indicate the growing cacophony in the wayhouse—"with humans—"

Moriko smiled a little. "Together we're a team. A team can make it to the next oasis."

"That does appear to be an advantage of this arrangement, yes," Vleridin said dryly.

Inside, the pizzas were ready, and they let the pokémon try a little tomato sauce or soda. Even Sai, the sad outcast, looked like he was having a good time, and there was ice cream afterward. It was a good day.

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N** : Thanks for reading! There's an illustration for Dragoon and Drillgon up on my tumblr/deviantart, **gaiienpokedex**.


	16. Paraslit

**Changelog:** Edited Gods and Demons Chapter 26 for spelling/grammar/flow. Some changes to fakemon names, including prolant to privant and voltant to fulgurant. Some changes to backstory for consistency.

Chapter 14

 _Paraslit_

 _—August 1st-2nd 128 CR_

Russ had been lagging behind for several kilometers. It wasn't unusual for one of them to pause for a moment, retie one's boots, examine a bush or a rock, or keep watching for something sighted out of the corner of the eye. He would stop and stand and stare at nothing. Sylvia appeared from her ball uncalled and started following alongside him. She'd startle him awake with her nose or by mouthing his hands.

She called out to them when that wasn't enough. He looked muzzy; he spoke like he was dreaming.

Sylvia whined. "What's wrong with him?"

"Sunstroke?" Moriko said.

"It's so early in the day," said Matt.

She put her hand to his forehead and snatched it back. "He's _cold_ ," said Moriko.

"He's—"

"Something's wrong," Vleridin said, squinting at him. "He smells _terrible_ , like carrion and mushrooms."

Matt stopped at that, an explanation dying on his lips, eyes searching Russ's bleary face. "Let's find a place to sit down."

They led Russ on, as one leads a sleepwalker, toward the shade of a rocky column. Matt hurt his back catching him when he fainted.

Russ's pokémon appeared from their capsules then, Keigan and Celeste, Conall and Sauza. Sylvia whined and sniffed his prone body as Matt supported his head.

Moriko dug through Russ's neatly packed bag and tore out his bedroll, and they maneuvered his scarecrow body onto it. Sylvia and Conall curled up on either side of him while Sauza was persuaded back into his pokéball; Celeste refused.

The celestiule changed color with the sky; at the moment, she was pale blue and shining, and at noon she would be blinding white. "There is a wrong thing here," she declared. "I feel its intent."

"Where is it?" said Moriko, snatching up Rufus' pokéball.

"Here," Celeste said, tossing her head at Russell.

Moriko and Matt looked at each other. The celestiule had only hatched a few weeks ago, and was prone to strange fancies; they'd been reassured that it was echolalia from her time in the egg or the remnants of ancestral memory, but now and then she said something unnerving. Like now.

"The dream-child is right, I think," Vleridin said, pacing. "There's… something…"

Matt shook his head. "Let's check him for bites or, or stings or something."

Celeste clicked her teeth impatiently. Moriko took off Russ's boots; nothing there but the same fetid socks the three of them wore. Matt checked his hands and wrists.

"Maybe the back of his leg, maybe something bit him there. Help me turn him," said Matt.

Moriko went to Russ's knees and lifted them, and Matt raised his shoulders—

Matt screamed and leaped away, dropping Russ's head back onto the camping pillow. Moriko was about to snap at him, alarmed, as his forearms blossomed into a network of red slices. Sylvia snarled and yelped, dancing away with her snout streaming dark sap; Conall scrabbled away on his belly.

Moriko jumped up. "What the fuck—"

"There's something on his back!" Matt said, his arms held rigid. "Let's just—I need—Moriko, I need a potion—"

Moriko obliged, cracking the spray bottle. Matt and Sylvia hissed at the stinging spray but the shallow wounds closed up, healing rapidly. Conall approached Russ slowly, managing to rest his head on his stomach without incident. Celeste trotted over to them, pointing with her head as if to say "See?"

"I don't know what's wrong," said Matt, sounding small and scared, and that was terrifying.

More pokémon let themselves out of their pokéballs: Tarahn, Maia, Tak; the honchkrow perched on a jut on the side of the rock pillar, watching with lurid interest.

"What's going on? You guys stink of fear and, uh, feet," said Tarahn.

"Can you smell _him_?" Vleridin asked, nodding at Russ.

Tarahn sniffed and recoiled. "Mor, he smells like that squirrel that died under the house that time. What happened?"

"He—he was acting weird, and then he fainted—and there's something—"

"Something _sharp_ , and fast," said Maia. "I couldn't hold it," she said, walking toward them on three legs. Moriko sprayed more potion on her lacerated paw, where she had tried to grab… whatever it was.

Tarahn looked from Maia to Russ and back. "Moriko… I could thunder wave him, paralyze whatever it is."

"Is that _safe_?"

"He's not high enough level to hurt," said Matt. "But be gentle."

"I'm gentle like kittens and flowers," Tarahn said, rolling to look cute but merely showing off his claws.

"You bit me once, and I had to get regen," Moriko reminded him. She twitched his tail when he put his ears back, abashed. "Long time ago. Go easy."

Tarahn sank to the ground and crept belly-down along the red dirt, sandy coat and purple markings an inappropriate camouflage. Yellow rings of electric-type energy pulsed outward from him as he drew near to Russ, whose body absorbed them harmlessly—but something whipped near his head, scoring the dirt.

It grew slower, and finally they were able to catch a glimpse of something, something metal-bright and filamentous, as it jerked fitfully on the ground. Moriko and Matt darted in, turned Russ onto his stomach, and then stepped out of reach again.

There were six oozing spots of blood on Russ's shirt, aligned three to a row vertically down his back on either side of the spine. The filaments—antennae?—pierced his shirt, and led to the spots of blood. Something moved under his shirt—under his _skin_ —and they recoiled.

There was a high cackle and cawing from Tak.

Moriko stared; it was too hot, the sun too high. "Matt. What am I looking at?"

Matthew scurried away. Moriko found him throwing up a few strides around the column.

"The other kind of possession," Matt said. He shivered uncontrollably, head pressed up against the rock, until Maia came and circled him with her body.

x.x.x.x.x

 _The desert is all red sand and black meteorite fragments, glinting like shattered swords in blooded fields. It floats, the burning sun and icy stars orbiting._

 _It can see in all directions; the earth is hollow, crossed and crisscrossed by endless faults and tunnels; the sky curves down upon it, flutters across its skin like butterflies; the desert goes on forever, faulted by arches and canyons and mesas._

 _Things come and intrude on its perfect awareness, crude nightmare figures, dissonant; it slashes them away._

 _Not much longer now. It is growing strong, and the masters are near._

x.x.x.x.x

"We need help, Matt. We need to save him."

Matt had flown off with Sylvia and Maia, searching for pokédex phone reception. Their maps showed geologic features, contours, satellite photos, but precious little human activity. They had water and water pokémon, but either would eventually run out, and it wasn't good to separate for long; there were wild pokémon and strange powers abroad.

She'd yelled at him for taking pictures of Russ and his wounds from various angles, but subsided at his haggard, drawn look. "For evidence," he'd said.

Matt had showed her an article on her pokédex; they weren't connected to the cloud, but it was available in offline mode. Cryptopokémonology was the study of pokémon and pokémon abilities described by folklore and urban legend, but never captured or properly studied by pokémon professors. There were hundreds of articles under the heading, some with names that Moriko recognized, some for pokémon that had been shown to be real, and others that sounded made-up or cribbed from movies.

Matt selected one that collected references to a belief in an elemental that would invade the body of a host and take control of their body, eventually fleeing and never being seen again.

A rather racist article by a Kantonian pokéanthropologist suggested that the legends were inspired by botflies and other parasites as an explanation for fly-by-night spouses who might disappear when they tired of family life, not into the hinterlands of regions like Tanos or Coere where the legend was common, but merely to the next settlement to start the cycle over again with a new life and new spouse. Or, alternatively, to explain young people suddenly developing mental illness. Improved communication and access to medical care in the modern era had made the belief disappear into occasional ghost story, and indeed even in the age of ubiquitous pokédex cameras no one had ever provided clear documentation.

Another article judged that a few of the reported cases might be genuine; specifically, the ones where a pokémon companion, especially a psychic- or dark-type, reported the presence of an entity nearby before the afflicted person fell ill and disappeared.

Internet cryptopokémon enthusiasts had dubbed it "paraslit" or "myiaslice". Numerous lurid drawings of it flattening its wormlike body and slipping into expert incisions in the skin were provided. Some of them were too large to have been automatically downloaded by the pokédex, and Moriko was left to wonder based on the comments.

There was little consensus: its appearance varied, as did the proposed method of cutting; there was disagreement over how it approached and invaded a victim, what its type and powers could be, and if it evolved or not. Gruesome drawings of _that_ were also provided, ranging from the human host taking on worm- or bug-like characteristics, or the worm growing huge and decorating itself with the husk or bones of its victim.

Moriko had turned the pokédex off at that and gone to lie face-down on her sleeping bag. Somehow the whole thing was less fun when it was someone you knew who might imminently leap up and run possessed into the night, or reduce into bones and mummified tissue on the side of an enormous parasite.

Matt returned at sunset. He'd located a spring and filled up their canteens, and had stumbled on an automatic weather and astromonitoring station with a shelter. "I'm not sure how we can move him, though."

The paraslit had gotten more violent after being paralyzed, and wouldn't let anyone near Russ, even to give him water. Moriko was terrified he was getting dehydrated.

They stood a distance away. Celeste, part dark-type, claimed the paraslit was a psychic-type and could sense intent, and they were inclined to believe her.

Moriko had slowly put together a plan after the cryptid art images had faded from her mind. "We paralyze it again, wrap him tightly in a groundsheet so those sharp antennas can't move, and then we tie him to Liona to fly to your monitoring station."

Sylvia whined. "I want to carry him," the borfang said, rattling her wings.

"You have to carry us," Moriko said. "Liona can carry one person only."

"Actually… maybe we should tie him to Sylvia, and then someone else ride with them," said Matt. "I'm not sure how he'll shift around… Say the blanket comes off, and the paraslit starts slicing Liona's back or wings."

"Do we have anything that will last longer than paralysis? Does anyone know a sleep move?" Moriko asked.

Matt pulled out his pokédex. "Can a dirfox learn hypnosis? Or a celestiule…?"

"Celeste?"

The celestiule turned her head. Her body was purple and red, striped with far-off wispy clouds, with a few bright stars showing through. "I can sing," she said.

Moriko smiled. "That might put us all to sleep if you're not careful. Can you direct it only at the paraslit and Russ?"

Celeste gave her a daggery look. "Of course," she said, rising.

"She's too low level for the attack to affect us," Matt said. "Who's going to lift him up? He's like a scarecrow full of long lead weights."

"Rufus," said Moriko. The oxhaust nodded; he cast an orange spirit glow in the fading light.

"Hold," Vleridin said. "You're going to all fly off without me?"

"Oh gods." Moriko pressed her eyes with both fists. _Why can't you just go in a pokéball_ was the thought she did not utter.

"You could wait here, and Liona could come back and show you the way on foot," Matt offered.

The mooskeg huffed a 'no'. "As you know, I am the equal of ten others, but I _dislike intensely_ the idea of being left behind in the dark, especially at a time like this."

Matt muttered, "I have an oddish, a torchic, and an electrike, and the boat only seats two…"

They contemplated the dirt for a few moments. Moriko willed herself away, closing the distance to Port Brac with her mind, but the kilometers remained stubbornly uncrossed.

Vleridin scuffed the sand with a hoof. "Well… I offer this hesitantly since it affected you rather strongly the last time… but I could ensoul you, Moriko."

"I'm… not sure if I feel good about you taking over my body," Moriko said, after a silence.

The mooskeg grunted. "No control, just… you would have a passenger."

Moriko rubbed her eyes again. "Let's… put Russ's passenger"—she saw Matt flinch—"to sleep, while we think about it."

Celeste stood a distance away from Russ and began the sound-type attack. Moriko caught a few of the echoes off the stone pillar and felt a lance of drowsiness— _See, Matt?_ —although he was right, Celeste should have been too low-level to affect a human—

Celeste walked forward slowly, close enough to see the swipes of the metallic antennae in her direction and avoid them. It seemed like an age before the antennae finally slowed; Celeste crept forward, only to dance away when one slashed at her. A feint, but Celeste continued singing, changing her angle of attack. Matt and Moriko shifted as well.

Finally Rufus was able to rumble forward and lift Russ bodily; the paraslit made some ineffectual swipes that skittered harmlessly along his steel-type armor. Rufus trapped the antennae with one giant hand, and helped Matt cover them with the thick groundsheet, wrapping up Russ's upper body like a bandage. Moriko encircled the whole thing with several layers of duct tape, and was able to tape the antennae as well where they protruded from the blanket. They were long, stretching down to Russ's knees when pressed flat and limp, and with a metallic iridescence, like a beetle or bluebottle fly.

They hoisted Russ onto Sylvia's back, putting him over her shoulders like a bound cavalry prisoner. They'd used nylon rope to make her a harness and then tied Russ to it, looking up the knots and the design in survival and pokémon riding articles on the pokédex.

 _Thank goodness for Prof. Willow downloading all the files_ , Moriko thought. Had it really only been six weeks? Seven?

"I hope this holds," Matt said. He put on multiple coats, his and Russ's, to give a bit of padding if attacked, as well as the sun-sand goggles they'd purchased in Russet for their trek through the desert. He was sweating into them in the warm evening, impatient to go.

Moriko nodded. She had her bag and Russ's; everything was packed up and the pokémon were in their balls, except for Liona and Sylvia, and Tak to provide dubiously loyal scouting ahead in the dark. Liona would lead the way with her darkvision, and Sylvia had provided a flyer's description of how to reach the station.

And last, the mooskeg.

"…Okay, Vleridin," Moriko said. "Is this going to hurt?"

"No. Probably not. I don't think so. Anyway, it will only take a moment."

" _Great_."

The mooskeg began to glow, runnels of energy capillarying out and growing until she was entirely light, like she was evolving. The shapes of her body softened and withdrew until Moriko was only facing a faintly teal-colored sphere at chest height. She squinted as it approached silently, like a bad effect in a movie, and it passed through her clothing and then into her body without sensation. Her skin glowed briefly, teal light shining through her flesh.

"So… any change?" Matt said, after a moment. Liona and Sylvia looked on with interest.

Moriko shook her head. Nothing, except Vleridin was gone, and there was—

Moriko put her hand to her sternum. "Like I have a second heart, here, out of sync," she said.

She relaxed, and then started, as Vleridin said _See? No problem._

Matt looked at her, eyebrows raised in a question.

"I can still hear her," Moriko said, "but sort of like she's whispering in my ear."

"That's hard to quantify, given that all pokémon conversation is telepathic, but I suppose you—"

"Thanks, professor. Let's roll."

Sylvia and Liona summoned air-type energy and launched straight up into the air. They soared over the desert, sand and scrub and rock dwindling below them and passing away into shadow as the sun disappeared. Soon Moriko couldn't see anything beyond the shadow of Liona's black and burgundy feathers, just flat darkness with the bowl of the sky overhead.

 _Oh!_ she heard Vleridin whisper. _Flying is wonderful, even through senses as drab as yours._

 _Rude_ , Moriko thought at her.

 _If you guys don't keep it down back there_ , Liona joined in, _I will turn around._

They flew in silence, the nigriff influencing the air to move out of her path for greater speed. Time passed as Moriko's pokédex beeped the hour and her arms and legs cramped around Liona's body and Russ's backpack. Her own pack pulled at her shoulders. Surely they'd reach the station soon—

Moriko noticed a light, yellow-green and blinking, on Liona's right flank. She watched it grow closer, and thoughts of aircraft and somehow getting their attention raced through her mind, but she heard no noise of an engine and antigrav was usually blue…

The light got closer, and Moriko could see a blur and hear the buzz of wings. She punched Liona's shoulder and leaned forward—

"HELLO STRANGERS, PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT YOU ARE ENTERING KALAMATOS HIVE TERRITORY," a jovial voice boomed. "IT LOOKS LIKE YOU ARE TRAVELING IN SOME HASTE. MAY I BE OF ASSISTANCE?"

x.x.x.x.x

 _Fulgurant, the locust pokémon. A bug- and electric-type, it evolves from privant with high speed values near level 25. It is a fast and effective aerial scout. It can deliver a powerful electric attack from its abdomen._

Escorted by the bug pokémon, they reached the station without further incident. Vleridin emerged from Moriko's body in reverse sequence, and she felt unchanged, very much unlike her earlier experience.

"A paraslit? What on earth is that?" The fulgurant was perched on the roof of the station shelter, a partially buried dome with reinforced windows that could be opened to allow airflow, or closed to shield from sandstorms. It had accepted a can of lemonade from Matt and held it in one of its legs, its mandibles open to drink from it.

"It's bad," Sylvia said. "It's burrowed into his body and stealing his energy."

"It's a demon's servant," said Celeste. The celestiule kept letting herself out of her ball; her hide was now black velvet studded with stars, reflecting the sky. "It will kill him and return to them." She cast an appraising eye on Russ. "Perhaps we should follow it when it does," she said.

Moriko looked at Matt at that, and he made a "yikes" face and raised his hands helplessly.

"We don't want him to die," Moriko said, patient. "Do you know if there are any humans nearby? He probably needs to be operated on to remove the paraslit."

"This is way beyond my knowledge," said the fulgurant cheerfully. It shifted on the roof, whirling the disco-ball glow from its abdomen. "Demons sound pretty bad though, I'll ask about it at the hive. Be back soon!"

With a whirr, the fulgurant shot away into the night, its light rapidly dwindling to nothing.

"Huh. Seemed nice," said Tarahn.

Matt sighed. "I've got Russ set up on a cot inside."

Russ was on his back, propped up and still wrapped in the sheet. Matt had been able to give Russ some water; the antennae flopped around ineffectually, tied together with tape. He hadn't needed to use the toilet the entire time, which was a relief, but it pointed to the paraslit shutting down Russ's systems as it took over.

"I'm going to look for a better phone or a radio or something," Matt said. "If I can't find anything… well, get some rest."

Moriko found a chair and drew it up close to the cot, and she sat in silence for a while. Tarahn wandered in and sat beside her. She massaged his face, her hands working along his purple mask of fur, and down onto his white chin and bristly whiskers as she stared at nothing.

"No-one wanted me on this journey," she said. Tarahn grunted. "Rachel tried to stop me, Angela tried to make Russ ditch me, Matt has been a shit the whole trip. No-one but Russ. And now…"

She gestured at Russell, helplessly, and all the day's sights came to her at once: his weird, dreamy stare, fainting, blood on his clothes, a _thing_ in his body, ruined husks of victims penned by some darkly eager internet artist. She felt her face crumple, and her chest convulsed with hideous sobbing. Tarahn patted her awkwardly with one paw.

"He's dying," she choked out, between sobs that were like whole-body convulsions. She ground her fists into her closed eyes. "Why not me? Why—"

"Making it all about yourself again, I see," Vleridin said.

Moriko snarled wetly. "Go _away_ —"

"Cry it out, human." Vleridin stood over Russ, wrinkled her nose again at the smell. "You should be no stranger to losses. This isn't your first sickness, nor your first death—"

Moriko unfolded like a spring and seized Vleridin's snout in both hands, leaning over the cot. " _Don't_ ," she said.

Vleridin glanced at Tarahn, whose fur was all on end, and looked back at Moriko until the weird light in her orange eyes dimmed.

She slumped back onto the chair. "Don't," she repeated. She ran her hands through her hair, unwashed and straggly and slipping out of the elastic, and new sobbing took over.

x.x.x.x.x

"There's a ranger station two or three days away," Matt said. "Take Sylvia and Liona. If you fly all day and night… I'll stay here with him."

Matt had activated a rescue beacon in the observatory, and it droned out a repeating tone. Patrolling pokémon rangers or emergency services from a nearby village should eventually hear it and send someone, but they had no way of knowing how long that would take or how long Russ had.

There were maps in the station that revealed their location: right in the middle of nowhere, a site chosen for its clear skies and only occasional sandstorms. There wasn't much beyond the small shelter, just a shed full of equipment and a landing pad. There was a small amount of emergency water and fuel, but certainly not enough for a long stay.

They'd snatched a few hours' sleep in their camping gear. Boredom and dread lent them inspiration, and they'd tried various remedies on Russ, cures for battle-induced sleep or poisoning, which did nothing, and potion spray on his open wounds, which failed to close. Moriko blunted her knife on the paraslit's antennae, which were like steel wire.

Finally, they asked Celeste to use dark-type energy on the parasite, and it had reacted with fury: blood had gushed from Russ's wounds, and his body had convulsed until they all withdrew to a respectable distance. Matt had had another panic attack after that. Russ accepted water to drink with little trouble, but he still hadn't urinated, and he looked sicker every hour.

Moriko sat against the shelter wall, watching the sun rise.

"Why did we come here, Matt? Why didn't we just fly? Why did we go on this stupid journey?"

Matt hesitated and then sat beside her.

"It should have been fine. Lots of people get through this league just fine. We were old enough."

Matt said nothing. Maia came over and sat beside him protectively.

"I killed him, Matt. I as good as did. He should have gone with Angela and them and left when they did. We all should have. It's my fault."

Matt shook his head. "No," he said, sighing. "No, I think it's mine—"

The earth rumbled, and a plume of dust went up slightly away from the station. There was a scrabbling, and a host of ant pokémon poured out. Another—the fulgurant, from the previous night—buzzed out of the sky and landed on the station roof.

"Come with us! You're going to meet the queen!"

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N: (08/16/2017)** Alright, from here on you can skip back to "Gods and Demons" ( s/1952524/29/Gods-and-Demons). There shouldn't be tooooooo many continuity errors (mostly just some changed fakemon names) from that chapter on, and you can read to the end! The last chapter will be posted next week. You can also wait for the enhanced versions of those same chapters in this story, which will be edited and improved and have some extra character interaction scenes here and there. Sorry for the weird split! This is what happens when you come back from a 9-year hiatus and I don't recommend it. ;)

Paraslit is the creation of The Mad Tortoise/Pinecone Tortoise, who made an entry 12 or 13 years ago into the Fakemon contest I held. I'd love to hear from you again if you're out there! Paraslit really transformed this story and you should be proud. There's a drawing up for Paraslit on my deviantart/tumblr, **gaiienpokedex**.


	17. Dark Water

**Changelog:** Edited Gods and Demons Chapter 27. Grammar/prose edits. More consistent pokédex entries. Changes to ant fakemon line: prolant to privant, voltant to fulgurant, lacerant replaced with rhinant. Descriptions updated to match art.

x.x.x.x.x

Chapter 15

 _Dark Water / Eldest / He'll find you and he'll kill you_

— _August 2_ _nd_ _128 CR_

 _Privant, the pawn pokémon. A bug- and ground-type, it can evolve into several pokémon near level 25. A reginant will spawn hundreds to serve her and establish the hive._

 _Sarjant, the sergeant pokémon. A bug- and ground-type, it evolves from privant with balanced battle statistics near level 25. They work together well and can produce vast excavations in the earth, and they can overwhelm attackers through sheer numbers._

 _Pyrant, the bishop pokémon. A bug- and fire-type, it evolves from privant with high special attack values near level 25. It uses its fire breath and sting to repel attackers, but it can become frenzied and continue attacking after the threat has been neutralized._

 _Soldant, the knight pokémon. A bug- and steel-type, it evolves from privant with high attack values near level 25. Its hard, sharp armor facilitates striking attacks while protecting it from injury. It consumes iron ore to maintain its shell._

 _Rhinant, the general pokémon. A bug- and rock-type, it evolves from privant with high defense values near level 25. They are peaceful and prefer to build and tend to fungi growths, but they will defend the hive ferociously. Old individuals are covered in rare lichen._

 _Quarzant, the castle pokémon. A bug- and crystal-type, it evolves from privant with high endurance values near level 25. Its crystal growths serve as armor, and can produce tones that confuse opponents and beam attacks to damage them._

They went down into the dark beneath the earth.

Ant pokémon had swarmed them, pouring out of hidden tunnels. They were a riot of colors and types, the majority of them drab workers the size of small dogs, while the soldiers were fewer and larger. Moriko's pokédex chimed helpful blurbs as they came into range.

She and Matt had argued briefly, deciding who should stay with Russell, only to see the ant pokémon leaving with him, supine on a many-legged bed. They scrambled after them, starting and stopping as they left some of the bags behind. Did they need them? Who'd take them, anyway?

A meditant investigated Russ as they marched, her dexterous claws and antennae dancing over his body; she walked with a humanoid posture, with two arms folded and two touching him lightly. The paraslit's antennae twitched and strained at the duct tape holding them.

 _Meditant, the archbishop pokémon. A bug- and psychic-type, it evolves from privant with high special defense values near level 25. A large growth behind its head is the source of its psychic powers. It can detect psychic waves at a distance and produce powerful barriers._

The tunnels were dry and cool, large enough for them to walk upright, and for Vleridin to not catch her antlers. There was a lone rhinant, tall and hulking, and the tunnels seemed to have been made on her scale or better. Rufus walked ahead of them, his spirit fire casting a flickering glow onto the tunnels' proteinaceous reinforcements. At the head of the column, Russ lay in state, funerary with a six-legged honor guard.

"I am Thanasanian," an oberant said, introducing herself. "I am afraid there is no time to instruct you upon proper protocol for meeting the queen, but you are outsiders and this is something of an emergency, so the usual procedures will be waived." She was mothlike, with scaled wings and fluffy white fur with red markings, and stood upright as well. "Please conduct yourselves as if"—she waved her claws expressively—"as if you are meeting a human person of great authority. You would be respectful, no?"

 _Oberant, the chancellor pokémon. A bug- and fairy-type, it evolves from privant near level 25 if its speed and special stats have good potential. It has a cute appearance but can be mischievous and unpredictable. It serves as loyal opposition and advisor to the queen._

A breeze pushed against them suddenly, incongruous, and then the tunnel opened into a massive cavern. Rufus' flame could not illuminate it fully, but merely cast a shine onto the ponds in the stone and onto the glittering quartz crystals jutting from the walls and ceiling, which continued far away into darkness.

"Ah," Vleridin said, studying the water, but she turned away. "Too much earth-type energy," she commented.

The procession continued into another tunnel, and they began to see more activity: privant and sarjant scurrying here and there; tunnels where excavation was proceeding; soldant and crystant patrolling. The path sloped up and they passed a few chambers that had a glimmer of reflected daylight, with pyrant and fulgurant coming and going.

They came at last to a large cavern; it was smaller than the geodic one they'd passed through, and had a whiff of staler, lived-in air. Chitin creaked in the darkness, and the reginant appeared.

 _Reginant, the queen pokémon. A bug- and dragon-type, it evolves from any one of privant's possible evolutions near level 55 and retains the statistical balance of its previous form. They are rare to see in the wild as generally only one will lead a nest. They are long-lived and are figures of wisdom as well as destructive power._

She was the size of an aircraft, with a long prothorax giving her a dinosaurish look, and spiked carapace striped in loud colors.

"Be welcome to Kalamatos hive, humans," she said, her rumbling voice shot through with a buzzing, flanging effect. "We trust that our lieutenants have treated you comfortably?"

Matt stepped forward and bowed. "Thank you very much, I must compliment your hospitality and the impressiveness of the tunnels and caves we've seen."

"Ha! An unsubtle courtesy, but honest. Show us the afflicted human," the queen declared.

The soldant and crystant in the procession took up guard posts around the sarjant carrying Russ's pallet. The meditant and Thanasanian went to the reginant and conferred with her briefly. They seemed to be the reginant's proxies, smaller pokémon that could traverse the tunnels easily.

Kalamatos swept her antennae over Russ and the paraslit protested, convulsing his body. Matt covered his eyes and turned away, and Moriko drew close to Rufus.

"Enough," the reginant said, and a powerful hypnosis wave pulsed from her head. The paraslit's antennae fell limp at once, and Russ's body relaxed.

Moriko sighed in relief and felt a treacherous hope that Russ might yet recover.

Eventually, the examination over, the sarjant drew Russ's pallet away and Kalamatos turned to Matt and Moriko.

"This is a thing not seen in this country for thousands of years; it is a thing from legend, from the age of gods and demons. It is a confirmation of dark rumor. Demon servants walk the land once again."

Matt stepped forward. "Permission to speak?" he asked, quite calmly, although Moriko could see him shaking.

"Proceed."

"What _is_ this thing? What is a demon servant?"

"They are elementals, like any of us, but they possess a rare power, the power to use humans' energy."

"Would that we all could," the oberant said, to some chuckling. "A jest!" she added, at Moriko's expression.

"This one, least, nameless, turns to energy and dissolves itself in the body of a host—and then reforms, embedded in the flesh." The queen's antenna brushed over Russ' back illustratively. "It will consume his energy until its change comes, and he will die."

Matt spoke again. "What is a demon? Where do they come from? They are… gone? Hidden?"

The reginant shifted, her antennae flickering through the air in Matt's direction. "This is basic lore," she said, with some incredulity. "It is unknown to humans?" She looked over the pokémon, Maia and Vleridin and Rufus, standing with them. "It is unknown to you?"

"I've told them of demons," Vleridin said, a bit defensively. "Although I admit I was… unfamiliar with this particular variety."

A whispering, a hurried consultation with the meditant advisor. "Very well," the reginant said. "Hear, then: the true tale, as it was told by her who was queen before me, who heard it from the one who was queen before her, and so on into days forgotten.

"In an age long past, at the dawn of the world, gods walked the earth, rode the wind, ran dark currents beneath the sea, and bathed in fire and ice and light and shadow, and we were their servants.

"The gods quarreled amongst themselves and fought often, and forgave one another just as quickly. They were all equals in strength: each battle a draw, and they grew together and none could master any of the others. They battled like youngsters, for the joy of it, without fear or pain or wound. They would sleep easy and awake renewed to battle again. They embarked upon long journeys and saw many strange and wondrous sights that no eye had ever yet seen, and every day was new, then at the dawn of all things.

"The ordinary peoples were their servants; they ranged the world and brought back tributes of strange energies and powers and sweet and savory foods for the gods, and battled feebly for their amusement, and built monuments and palaces for their glory.

"And then one day, the eldest god killed the youngest, and drank its spirit, and became as two gods, as more than two, suffused with that energy.

"No one can say how the eldest came to that dreadful inspiration. The world was filled with energy in those days, was replete with it, and hunger or want of shelter was unknown. But after that first murder—first, greatest—none of the others could stand against it, and they fled when defeated so it would not consume them as well, and they hid in the earth to recover.

"The eldest god sought the secrets of creation, the secrets of the powers that had come before them, but it was only able to create mockeries, to twist and shape people into different forms, and to nourish them on powers it selected: and so it created the first demons, the first of its great servants, who would come to sow terror and destruction for an age to come.

"The other gods met in secret and grew themselves, drinking energy in vast draughts and fighting with a new purpose, that they might use their combined power to defeat the eldest, and they heard how it had created lieutenants and assembled a vast army, and they did the same. And they agonized over the dark power that the eldest had discovered: should they sacrifice their servants and consume their power, or sacrifice one another, and let those remaining become each as two gods? As four? More? But they could not—they loved one another with a fierce, bright love, and they mourned their youngest sibling and their eldest too, even as they cursed it.

"Their war scorched the sky and blighted the earth, and nearly all the energy that had been freely available was consumed and destroyed. Exhausted, they defeated the eldest, and its lieutenants and minor creations fled to distant lands. And all the people who had fought mourned their dead and the death of those first bright days, and they went out into the world as well, in search of energy that was now elusive and valuable.

"And there was not enough for the gods, so they withdrew to secret spaces, to places beyond time, and they left."

Moriko felt the weight of years as the tale ended, of histories unknown to modern humans and terrible and ancient. Vleridin seemed impressed; Moriko wondered if she were committing it to memory, to add to her own demon stories.

Matt cleared his throat. "We've heard rumors, heard of and seen victims of strange murders. Is it true, then? Have demons returned?"

"Their servants have," Kalamatos said, her antennae sweeping over Russ's body expressively. "It is our responsibility to plan for the worst—a demon lieutenant, perhaps, ravening and consuming anyone it finds. Perhaps merely servants, creating discord, inspiring others to kill, and scavenging the energy liberated."

"What can we do for him?" Moriko asked.

The meditant stepped forward. "What has been tried?"

"Battle remedies—potions, antidotes—and dark-type energy, but it became violent at that," Moriko said.

Another inaudible conference between the oberant, the meditant, and the queen.

"Yes, I suspect it will just do damage to your friend to try more energies—fire-type or air-type are available to us, or ghost-type, if you have any such partners," the meditant said, thinking aloud.

"I have a thought," Thanasanian said. "Consider: a direct attack inspires fierce resistance. But if we make the servant's environment inhospitable, it may leave on its own—and we can seize it for questioning."

The meditant: "What are you proposing?"

"Darkwater—make the human drink it."

This set all the pokémon of the hive in the room to hissed, uneasy conversation, and even the reginant seemed discomfited.

"Sorry, darkwater is…?" Matt asked.

"In our many excavations we have discovered beautiful caves and sights unseen for many an age, and ancient fossils and relics from times far-gone and long-forgotten, and energies crystallized and ready for consumption. We have fought with other hives and other elementals for control of certain border treasures, but…" and here the queen's bombastic tone subsided, and she motioned for them to come closer.

Matt and Moriko drew close to the reginant. She was an enormous pokémon and even more terrifying in reach of her enormous jaws, but she dropped her voice and spoke more personally to them.

"We found something that was not meant to be found," she said. "There is great energy there, and plentiful, so we were attracted to it initially. There is… a substance… in that place, which we named darkwater. We suspect it is pure ghost-type energy, and in fact, if enough is consumed, one can change one's type temporarily."

"What's wrong with it?" Matt asked.

"There are… side effects," the meditant said, looking at Kalamatos for confirmation. "Those who took it were often unwell afterward, prone to melancholies. I'm not sure what would happen if a human took it. Probably nothing—it's hard to hurt humans with energy—but its presence should drive out the demon servant since it is a psychic-type."

There was a silence as they considered this, and Moriko said, "There're no other options?"

"A human doctor might cut it out or drive it out with drugs, but I would judge that he hasn't the time," Kalamatos said softly.

Moriko nodded. "Let's do it. Better to be sick, than…"

"One of our lieutenants will show you the way."

"We have to go get it?" Moriko asked, surprised. "Wouldn't it be faster for one of the poké—for one of your people to go?"

The queen turned an eye on her. "We… think it better that it is handled by humans, who may be less sensitive to its effects. Haladana will go with you since she is… less likely to be tempted. Your friend will be safe here."

Matt hesitated, and then nodded. "I think he will be in good hands with your people. Could you please keep it asleep, if possible?"

"Of course. Run, humans. Time flies for your friend."

x.x.x.x.x

They followed long, long tunnels, disused and filled with stale air. Rufus and Maia grew tired of walking and the meditant, Haladana, made orbs of light to see by.

Shortly they came to an appalling precipice, a fall into absolute darkness.

"I felt the darkwater first," Haladana said. Her inflated thorax and wings gave her the look of a tall, hunchbacked person in a long coat, especially when she crossed her arms while walking. "I felt it, calling—I didn't realize what it was, then. I thought it was just energy. Great wealth still lies under the earth, you see."

"Crystallized energy—it's things like rare candy and evolution stones," Matt said to Moriko.

The meditant hummed a confirmation. "It is a concentrated source of power—we collect it and save it, share it carefully with the hive. Most privant become sarjant—they have a balanced potential and they feed on earth-type energy. Others with different potential can be induced to make their change at the right time, so it is useful. We have fought with other hives over it.

"And so, I thought I sensed a new source—down, down in the dark."

They released Liona and Sylvia, who inspected the mohole and indicated that it was likely entirely stale air, long-equilibrated with no strange currents.

"The fulgurant usually just fall straight down vertical shafts, and use their abilities to slow their descent at the bottom. I will go first, with the light, and call when we are close to the bottom," said Haladana.

"Will you wait here, Vleridin?" asked Moriko.

The mooskeg snorted. "Oh please, and let you have all the fun? I want to see this darkwater. I expect this hole goes to the center of the earth."

Vleridin turned to energy and dissolved into Moriko's body with far less ceremony than the previous day. Haladana watched with interest.

"I thought humans usually made use of those capture devices?" the meditant commented politely.

"We have a… particular working relationship," Moriko said.

Liona and Sylvia used air-type energy to modulate their long fall—slowly at first, then to terminal velocity as Haladana emphasized the distance they were to travel. They'd need the energy for the ascent. Moriko hugged Liona's neck and gripped her sides with her knees, and pressed her face into the nigriff's faintly spicy-smelling feathers.

 _Soon, Russ. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Soon._

Eventually Haladana's psychic voice pierced their reveries, and the rush of the air faded as the two flying pokémon slowed. They landed lightly at the bottom of the shaft. Haladana's light seemed to struggle against the darkness: Moriko wondered if it contained dark-type energy, but Liona didn't seem interested. The stone floor was totally smooth, quite unlike the hive excavation roughly cut by privant and sarjant claws, though there was a fall of boulders scattered around. A tunnel stretched away in front of them, and in back.

"We dug straight down," Haladana said, "and we broke open into a cave that no one could sense."

"That is… unusual?" Matt asked.

Haladana looked at him for a moment, as if trying to decide if he was being sarcastic, before continuing. "That does not happen—we have, all of us, superb earthsense. Something was done to the cave to make it hard to find, except by accident—the diggers swore, they _swore_ that there was solid rock on the other side of the wall until suddenly the layer they were on crumbled. But the energy called to me…" Haladana paused and looked at Liona. "Please do not let me understate the… unwholesomeness of darkwater. Your allies should stay in their capsules—and in fact I think the dark-type should stay here."

The nigriff raised her brow ridges. "I think I should go along—I'm the only one with darkvision."

Haladana's wings buzzed a little. "Please understand, the darkwater is a… temptation, and all the more to those with a type mastery over it. But even a dark-type cannot overcome its effects. Please. We have experience."

Liona tilted her head at this, and then shrugged her wings. "If you insist—but make a picture, Moriko, so you can show me later."

"I'll wait here too," Sylvia said. She looked up the mohole and whined a little. "Hurry, will you?"

They shuffled pokéballs; Matt put Tak and Celeste's capsules onto Russ's loose trainer's belt and draped it around Liona's neck. "Is it much further?" he asked the meditant. "Should we leave them some water?"

"Only a few more moments. Follow."

"The tunnels go on and on for days," Haladana said as they walked. "They twist and turn and defy earthsense and direction. If they have some exit, I cannot imagine where; our scouts have never found such."

"In antiquity," Matt said, "the purpose of a labyrinth was to keep intruders out… and to prevent escape. If the darkwater is meant to be hidden, how did you sense it?"

"We suspect that it—this structure, the darkwater—is of great age… and aged things decline and fail, unexpectedly."

The meditant's light barely illuminated a few paces in front of them, so they were quite unprepared to step into the room and have the darkness suddenly relent.

It was enormous and circular, with a raised dais at its center surrounded by a pool of a black, glistening liquid. Other tunnels ranged around the entire circumference, utterly black mouths in the stone walls of the room. There was a strange prickling in the air, an electricity.

"I would recommend that you put a small amount into a container," the meditant said tightly. "And then let us leave."

Matt took a canteen down to the edge of the black pond. Moriko looked at her reflection in the water, and had to shuffle away quickly, pretending that she was inspecting the walls of the room.

 _Did you see it too?_ Vleridin's voice, the private voice in her ear.

 _I looked… very strange_ , Moriko thought out loud.

Matt wrestled with the darkwater, trying to scrape it into the canteen with considerable difficulty. "Are you sure this is energy?" he called to Haladana. He grunted. "This is like tar, or molasses—"

The meditant buzzed her wings in reply. "Hurry, please! I think—"

A light, dark red, began to glow within one of the far-off tunnel mouths. Matt collapsed, the canteen hitting the floor hollowly.

"Matt!" Moriko darted forward. "Are you okay?"

Matt shivered uncontrollably, his body curled up tight and painful.

"Haladana—can you—"

The meditant levitated him. "We need to hide," she said sharply. "Now."

Moriko snatched up the canteen, putting the lid on with effort over the sticky oil, and scrabbled over to the cave mouth. They huddled behind a reflect technique, Matt shivering on the floor as Moriko tried to remember first aid—was he having a seizure? Haladana extinguished her light source, plunging them into total darkness.

A weird light oozed out of a far tunnel, the darkness receding reluctantly, and it cast everything in dark red. Two figures appeared: one was upright, wreathed in smoke and blackened with ashes, with bright embers falling all around. It dragged another along, unconscious, limbs at wrong angles, and a broad, wet streak of black trailing behind on the stone. Behind them air sighed out of the far tunnel mouth, stirring the embers as they floated to the ground.

Without much ceremony, the standing figure hurled the prone one into the darkwater. It didn't make a sound as it slid under the surface. The standing figure conjured globes of firelight as the darkwater finally claimed what Moriko suspected was a corpse.

"Who—?" Moriko whispered.

"Quiet! Please!"

There was a noise. Afterward, Moriko couldn't say if it had been a real noise, or if it had been a sensation that just arrived in her brain without bothering to travel through the intervening air. It chilled her right down to the marrow; it sounded like screaming and the earth groaning and huge sheets of steel being rent apart, and it sounded like a long, relieved exhalation.

A thing heaved itself out of the darkwater onto the dais and Moriko nearly screamed: the darkwater clung to it like tar and blood and earth, like a rotting skin, glistening with decay. The darkwater slopped its banks and _moved,_ following the figure, drawing up onto it with a strange attraction contrary to gravity.

The figure on the other bank watched with interest, circling the pond. As it drew closer, Moriko saw that it was a human, with carbon-black skin and bright orange hair in ashy ropes, and it had eyes like two pinholes into a furnace. It had some kind of traveling clothes on, burnt beyond recognition, and it was barefoot.

The thing on the dais writhed, its figure growing more distinct as its darkwater coating shrank, drawing into its body. It stood up straight, shaking out curtains of matted steel-gray hair.

" _No no no no no no no no_ ," Matt was murmuring.

It was a man in a loose black tunic and trousers, ragged and travel-stained, with gray-white skin and purple eyes that glittered with reflected light like an animal's.

"Matthew! My old friend," he said, and with a gesture the reflect shield was torn off them, and Matt screamed.

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! I'll be posting half of the privant evolution line this week, with the first quarter up on my deviantart/tumblr **gaiienpokedex** now.


	18. The Gang Fights the Devil Part I

**Changelog:** Gods and Demons original Chapter 28, some grammar/flow corrections.

x.x.x.x.x

Chapter 16

 _The Gang Fights the Devil Part I_

— _August 2_ _nd_ _, 128 CR_

Maia and Bjorn ripped out of their pokéballs, snarling, and Tarahn and Rufus followed suit: they bristled with energy and bellowed defiance at the gray man with the strange power, their minds filled with Matt's distress and Moriko's confusion.

"Oh, my dear," the man said, stepping off the dais into the now-dry darkwater pond, "did you think we were going to have a _pokémon battle_?"

And he said—something—and Rufus, Tarahn, and Maia were all hurled bodily down the tunnel. Bjorn roared, galloping in and rising to his hind legs, dwarfing his human opponent. He brought one of his paws down in a slash attack that should have cut the man from throat to groin and spilled every drop of his blood, but the ursaring's ten-centimeter claws skittered uselessly over a barrier.

"Ghost and normal," the gray man muttered, and he created an enormous orb of dark energy as Bjorn flailed at him. The eight-foot ursaring was slammed away after the others like a toy.

"Run, recall them and run, damn you!"

Moriko was dimly aware that Haladana was yelling at her; the meditant disappeared into the tunnel, carrying Matt, with Maia close behind her. Moriko fumbled with the pokéballs, dizzy from trying to watch both men and see where she was going. This wasn't right; she should have yelled at Bjorn to keep him from attacking a human being. What was happening?

The gray man raised a hand as Moriko made it to the tunnel, but he and other spun to face another opening as earth and dust billowed into the room.

Moriko staggered as Vleridin leapt out of her body like a ghost. She summoned a rock-type nature power, and their tunnel's walls cracked ominously, dark fractures spiderwebbing along the surface.

"Run!" Vleridin said, pushing Moriko ahead of her and away.

The tunnel mouth collapsed. Dust and roaring chased them up the tunnel, chips of rock clattering on the floor.

Liona and Sylvia greeted them with concern at the shaft entrance, looking back and forth between Haladana and the furious, frightened Maia.

"What's happening? What's wrong with Matt?" Liona asked.

"We need to go," Haladana was saying. "He can't ride and I can't carry him, flying—"

"Give him to me! Give him—" Maia reared up on her hind legs, her fins bristling.

Moriko waved her arms. "Maia! Stop! We have to—"

A tremor made everyone stumble, followed by a breath of displaced air.

"We have to _go_ , now!" Haladana screeched.

"Sit on my back! Hold him and help me," Sylvia said, and the meditant awkwardly bundled Matt aboard, riding astride.

Moriko held Maia's pokéball. "Maia! Please! We'll get to the top, we'll get away—"

The tibyss made a frustrated, ripping growl, but recalled herself.

Moriko grabbed Liona again, and Vleridin phased into her body. Moriko felt a wave of vertigo, clutching the nigriff's feathers as they shot into the air ungracefully.

Below them the tunnel glowed with fire and shadow energy, but they fled until it was just a red and purple star far beneath them.

 _I had no idea you were both here,_ a voice intruded—Moriko felt sick— _although I can't imagine why you thought you could face me, Matthew. I thought I made it clear how you would feel if you brought on trouble…_

Liona and Sylvia accelerated and Haladana added her power, the air rushing past faster and faster. Behind them came a cacophony of thunder, roars, and distant laughter. At last they reached the top of the hole, and the earth shook under them as they alighted on the edge.

"Run! We must reach the queen!"

Moriko recalled the flyers and followed. She felt the cool touch of Maia's energy as she watched their progress. They were thrown to the ground repeatedly by quakes, and breaths of burnt, ashy air pushed past them.

 _Matthew! Please, when I'm finished with her_ —here a bellowing, as of multiple pokémon, and a concussion that left them staggering— _won't you introduce me to your friend? She has so much_ energy!

The tunnel walls suddenly glowed. Haladana pulled Moriko down into a depression, and Kalamatos the reginant appeared. She was buzzing a war cry, the tunnels groaning as she shoved the walls aside to accommodate her bulk. Moriko saw her armored underside briefly and then she was past them, belching teal dragonfire.

They rose again, their pursuer's wild laughter echoing behind.

"Matt! _Who is he_?" Moriko gasped out, but he hung limply in Haladana's arms, haloed by psychic energy.

The sounds of battle finally started to recede and soon they met the hive's lesser forces: sarjant, pyrant, and soldant, marching in the queen's wake. Thanasanian was leading them; she stopped and gestured for the rest to go on.

The ant pokémon parted and flowed around them, and Haladana put down Matt and sat, sighing. Thanasanian's antennae darted over Matt's body; he didn't notice, curled up with his hands crossed over his head and his whole body shaking.

A pokémon stepped out of the shadows, and the oberant and the meditant looked to it: a reclusant, another upright bug with glowing yellow eyes and a dark covering like a cloak.

 _Reclusant, the nightrider pokémon. A bug- and dark-type, it evolves from privant near level 25 if its speed and physical stats have good potential. It strikes from the shadows, using its modified wings to cover and camouflage itself. Its bold coloration confuses and distracts the opponent._

She examined Matt briefly and then hissed between her mandibles. "Cursed," she said. "Keep going." The reclusant stepped into shadow again and was gone.

There was a distant thunderclap and a sighing noise deep in the tunnels. "The queen needs me," Thanasanian said. "Keep going to the resting chambers, the human is there. Run!"

Russ was looking far worse when they found him, guarded by a few sarjant and privant minders. Haladana set Matt down on the sand before running her antennae over Russ.

Maia burst out of her pokéball again and stood over Matt, groaning unhappily and snarling when the ant pokémon tried to approach. Sylvia followed suit, her wings furled tight, and she crouched by Russ and whined, nosing his limp body.

"It is accelerating—he has… hours, maybe," Haladana said.

Moriko held the darkwater canteen out to the meditant, but she backed away.

"No, I cannot touch it. It—you—you… must not feel it."

"Feel what? Haladana—what _is_ this? Why—who is that man? What'll happen to Russ?"

"That man… those men, the gray and the red, are demon elementals in human form. And the gray one took up that energy, all of it, energy we could have used for years had it been safe to do so—"

"Haladana. They were demons. What will happen to the small demon, when—?"

The meditant trembled, clicking to herself. "I don't know," she said. "The gray one was ghost-type, and the red one dark, and only the gray one used the darkwater—"

"What do I _do_?"

"I don't know," Haladana said miserably. "I wish the queen were here."

A tremor reached them faintly, stirring loose pebbles and causing sand to fall in hissing whispers.

"Decide, Moriko," Maia growled from the corner. "Make a choice."

Moriko looked at Matt, but he didn't move. She looked at Russ and saw anew the waxy pallor of his skin and his narrow chest rising and falling. Sylvia looked at her beseechingly. She loosened the top of the canteen.

Dribbles of the thick substance immediately forced their way out.

"What the—"

"Out! Get out!" Haladana buzzed at the other ant pokémon, and they scattered obediently out into the tunnels. A shield shimmered around the room.

The darkwater burst the cap off the canteen, and Moriko threw it to the ground. It crawled, flexing across the gritty rock, oily fingers grasping, extending. She searched her pockets for a card, a utensil, something, and tried to pick it up with a knife, but it parted around the metal. Finally she grabbed the glob and almost immediately dropped it.

It was cold, awful, like touching a toad's belly, and it slithered and wriggled in her hand. She started to walk over to where Russ was lying, and she stumbled as the darkwater got heavier, and waves of nausea hit her like blows.

Another shield shimmered into effect around her hand and the darkwater flexed even more violently, but the nausea subsided.

"I think you should hurry," Haladana said, and Moriko looked past her and saw that the privant were skittering around the outside of their screened bubble—and beginning to attack it. "I told you how it—calls."

"Can't you stop them?"

"I am, and every moment it gets harder. Go!"

Moriko looked at Maia and Sylvia again, the two pokémon rigid and bristling and wide-eyed. She squeezed the globule and brought it close to Russ's back, where the restrained paraslit had its breathing holes, and suddenly the darkwater calmed.

 _What the fuck—_

She gripped it, uncertain, panicking— _like calls to like?_ —would it work, would the type opposition drive it out, would it gain power, would it _evolve_ —

 _Make a choice._

She smeared it over the holes, and it sat on Russ's back like a streak of oil, black and shimmering, before darting into the breaks in his skin.

Russ struggled immediately. Moriko tried to hold him down but his skinny limbs were filled with a terrible strength, and she was left gasping as he hit her in the stomach. His elbow shot out and caught her on the nose, and she saw stars, her face hot and cold and heavy. And then Matt was there holding him down as well, and Sylvia put her forepaws on him, and the paraslit flailed Russ's body uselessly as he sank into the sand under their combined weight.

The room filled with a painful keening. There was a glow from the breathing holes, and then a ball of light shot out of Russ's back and landed on the floor.

It reformed into a pokémon—a fist-sized bug, grub-pale and soft with bruise-colored spots, and long metallic antennae several times its body length. It darted around the room like a cockroach under a sudden unfriendly light.

 _Cryptidex mode initiated. Aura analysis: bug- and psychic-type, 85% certainty. Bug- and ground-type, 15% certainty. Possible match: Paraslit, the parasite pokémon. According to legend, it is responsible for erratic behavior and disappearances in humans._

Moriko sank to the floor, panting, a nosebleed dribbling past her mouth. Matt's eyes were sunken, and his face was half-crusted with vomit, one detail of their flight that she'd missed but maybe Haladana had noticed a little too well. Sylvia sighed and crouched by Russ, putting her head down on her forelegs.

"And there it is," Matt managed to croak out, putting out his arms to hug Maia as she curled around him.

Moriko spat and wiped her face, smearing blood over her arm. "I should kill it. _I_ should kill it and eat its energy. Fuck that thing."

"It _is_ a cryptid," Matt said, as the paraslit flitted around, squeaking. "It should be characterized. For science, and to protect others."

"Eat it or don't," said Haladana, her voice flanging as she held the barriers, "but do something!"

Moriko sighed out her nose, spraying blood. "For science," she said finally. She reached into her pockets and found a standard pokéball, which closed around the paraslit without a fuss. "Gotcha, bitch," she said, picking it up.

The room exploded.

The shields protected them from the worst of it, but they were left coughing in whirling grit. Daylight was visible through the dust, and battle sounds were audible once again: war cries, the whanging of beam attacks, and skittering noises as stone and dirt crumbled around them. Privant and sarjant were already struggling out of the rubble.

Haladana took down the barriers and sat. "Henceforth," she said gravely, her voice even more buzzing and distorted than usual, "all fulgurant shall be instructed to ignore human travelers, regardless of their distress, and regardless of any _rare entities_ they have encountered."

"Haladana—thank you. You saved us. We would be dead, and Russ as well."

The meditant dipped her head at that briefly, before snapping up to look at the now-exposed sky. "Ah—I am dreaming. Let's take shelter before another beam—"

The coal-black man with the burning eyes appeared at the lip of the crater.

"Matthew," he said, and raised his hand.

Matt levitated again, surrounded by an ugly, mottled energy. Maia charged at the red demon, roaring as she made a huge leap, but he buffeted her aside with a gust of air.

"Gkk—run!" Matt choked out. Limp, like a doll, he was raised out of the pit.

"Matt!" Moriko yelled. She grabbed Liona's pokéball, stopped, looked helplessly at the unconscious Russ, at Sylvia whose head swiveled between her trainer and Matt.

Haladana stepped forward. "I'll protect him. The red demon is not at full power… with all your strength, all your fighters—"

Moriko scrabbled in her pockets and turned out a potion dispenser. "Take this—restore your energy—his wounds—Maia! Maia! We'll attack together! Wait!"

"Move your ass, then!"

Moriko threw down Liona's pokéball and leapt onto her back. "Fly up high! I want to see what the hell is going on up there! Come on, Sylvia!"

Three— _four_ giant pokémon were battling with another much smaller figure. The sunlight glinted off a steelix's dull metal carapace; there was a deepwater-blue gyarados sending out huge pulses of water; Kalamatos launched bug- and sound-type attacks that made the air waver; and swooping in for an aerial attack, there was a black charizard spewing blue flame.

The desert was a battlefield covered in fused glass and smoking craters: these were high-level attacks, legendary-level attacks, and they could kill.

The gray man blocked powerful beams with a succession of barriers before countering with shadow ball techniques and piercing shadow lances, but the four pokémon were pushing him back. And striding toward them was the second demon, pushing Matt ahead of him like a puppet.

"Let's get him," Moriko said.

Sylvia dropped onto the red demon from the sky, swirling with air- and dragon-type energy, and it let go, letting Matt slump to the ground. Maia was a streak of blue, placing her body between Matt and his captor, summoning water from cracks in the earth to cradle him.

The man bellowed, a sound like a furnace opening, and threw Sylvia off him with a double fire punch. As he turned toward Maia, Rufus seized him from behind and crushed him against his metal-plated chest, oblivious to the surrounding wreaths of black-red fire. The man kicked Rufus with his heels; he didn't have the leverage to use his full strength, but the blows were punishing.

A beam from the other battle went wide, blue-white energy searing the ground and exploding hot dust and glass into the air. The man spat as Maia herded Matt away, and a flame wall sprang up in front of them—Matt stirred, finally, on his pallet of water, covering his face from the heat.

The man's skin cracked, glowing lines zigzagging across its black surface. His limbs bulked and lengthened, wider than Rufus's, his face lengthening into a snout, and black, curling horns spiraled out of his orange hair—

 _Cryptidex mode initiated. Aura analysis: Fire- and dark-type, 75% certainty. Reduce range to increase certainty. (WARNING: HIGH LEVEL DO NOT APPROACH UNLESS FAINTED) Possible match: Aricaust, the infernal pokémon. A pokémon out of old legends, it was said to be uncontrollable and bent on destruction whenever it found humans. Its unholy fire could melt steel and stone._

The demon slammed Rufus to the ground, cracking the rock and throwing up a cloud of sand. Moriko could feel the heat as it blasted up toward where Liona hovered.

Tarahn joined, lashing the demon with thunderbolts and a thunder wave that it shrugged off, and he darted out of reach as it came after him. The aricaust was slow, as heavy as Rufus without the excuse of steel armor. Vleridin approached from behind and set up a water sport technique, surrounding Tarahn with a protective bubble of water. The aricaust bellowed its furnace roar again and punched its fists into the ground, blasting away sand and driving its arms into the rock up past the spikes at its elbows.

 _Attackdex mode initiated. Supervolcano, a high-level fire/rock attack of various pokémon lineages including magmortar, magcargo, groudon—_

 _Run!_ Moriko sent, as strongly as she could, but Vleridin and Tarahn could tell that something was coming and had retreated. Rufus rose and braced himself as the ground exploded, spewing molten rock. The oxhaust's body flared amid the swirling dust, and he caught and cast some of the magma back at his opponent, who scarcely seemed to notice. The rest sizzled and smoked, melting the sand around the battlefield. Liona flew higher, dodging hot gusts of air _._

There was a distant explosion, and the oncoming-train roar of the steelix at the other battle. Keigan joined next, his spiral horns sparkling as he used a fairy wind attack; this seemed to enrage the aricaust, and the springbuck bounded into the air and away, wings flittering.

 _Fire and dark_ , Moriko thought, as Sylvia hit the demon with a dragonbreath. _Keep it guessing!_ she sent to them. _Don't get hit!_

Moriko's pokédex buzzed as the aricaust used uncatalogued attacks: whirling gouts of black-red fire burned across the sand followed by rains of hot ash; globs of lava splatted onto the ground as superheated trapped air expanded and burst.

Maia and Vleridin worked together, glowing blue, and there was a rumble as a huge water attack blasted out of the ground. It enveloped the aricaust and flashed to steam. Tarahn returned with thunderbolts and acid, hopping away out of reach as Rufus drew close to try a fighting-type attack, but his opponent's strength was enormous and he caught a blow to the chest that sent him reeling.

The other pokémon approached again as Rufus and the aricaust struggled, and their shadows grew long and shuddering. Out of the aricaust's shadow the reclusant appeared, throwing back her cloak and unfolding like a butterfly knife. Under a brutal torment technique, the demon faltered, its attacks suddenly halting and uncoordinated, and the reclusant stabbed it in the back.

A massive sand tomb attack shattered the earth, dropping the aricaust into a sinkhole. It had to be the work of dozens of pokémon—privant and sarjant were scattering—and ranks of big quarzant and rhinant appeared, each tanking the demon pokémon's attacks briefly and allowing the distant attackers to bombard it.

Thanasanian swooped in, flattening the aricaust with a pulsing moonblast attack from the air. Fulgurant and pyrant squads attacked with humming bug buzz techniques from the edges of the sinkhole, at a safe distance—until the aricaust roared again, a dark pulse scattering the surrounding pokémon like toys, and rose up on a wave of sand.

 _Gods all damn that thing!_ It was like battling a legendary, and they were hopelessly underlevel—one or two attacks were enough to leave a defending pokémon barely upright, and it was suicidal for Moriko to try to get down to get them a quick potion or full heal.

Maia seemed the least injured and had a type advantage at least— _Maia_ , she tried sending, hoping Matt's pokémon could catch her thoughts— _can you distract_ —

"I see you, demon," a strange, high, ringing voice said.

Celeste stood on the scorched plain, a spot of shining color, her skin reflecting the cloudless sky and her fiber-optic mane glimmering as the wind caught it.

Moriko clutched at her belt, and at Russell's belt hanging loosely on top of it. "Get back in the ball!" she shouted. "You're like level twenty!"

"I dreamed you, demon," the celestiule said. "I dreamed your end."

Her sky-skin whirled, and suddenly the sun was shining directly out of it. A beam of light like a sword pierced the aricaust, and it screamed in pain, transfixed.

The others sprang into action despite their burns and fatigue: Maia and Vleridin pummeled it with jets of water, and Tarahn arced with electric energy while Rufus belched fire. The reclusant struck with razor claws, laying into her trapped opponent as Sylvia hit it with dragonbreath. Keigan tried another fairy wind while Thanasanian delivered a ferocious moonblast, and the aricaust, under this multi-elemental barrage, finally began to fall back.

The demon shrank, his transformation subsiding and falling away into ash—

A thick barrier suddenly turned the attacks aside. The gray man appeared, rising up out of a phantom force teleportation.

"Just when I was beginning to enjoy myself!" He waved his hand, pushing the team back and disrupting their readied attacks, and picked up other man bodily.

There was a roar behind them: the gray man's opponents in pursuit, catching up to him.

He cast his gaze among those assembled and cocked his head at Matt. "Our visit was cut short tonight, Matthew—but I hope we can speak again soon about your obligations." He smirked and dropped back into his shadow, racing over the desert to the horizon.

A squadron of fulgurant passed overhead, green and yellow and glittering, pursuing at Kalamatos' order.

Moriko and Liona finally landed. "Matt, what was—" Moriko stopped, seeing Matt's contorted face. He was crying, furious, grinding his knuckles into the coarse grit on the desert floor. Maia groaned, seeing him, and he threw his arms around her neck.

Moriko set about checking the pokémon, applying hasty mists of potion on the worst injuries, and recalling them. Kalamatos and the three giant pokémon approached them, the battle-evolved charizard alighting delicately, and—it glowed and split, two forms sliding parallel to one another, the charizard, and... a woman.

She was very tall, deathly pale with severe white hair framing her face, and she had a pair of dark goggles masking her eyes. She was dressed in black, hard-used traveling clothes, and she was barefoot.

Matt stood suddenly; Maia rose to a battle crouch, surprised.

"Too slow!" he yelled, his voice breaking. "Every time! Useless!"

The woman cocked her head at him, just as the gray man had. "Hello, Matthew."

" _You_ ," Matt said, poisonous. "You—you—you think—you _think_ you get to speak to me. What—fucking—what platitudinous word vomit do you have for me on this latest, most illustrious visit?"

"You should calm yourself, Matthew. Your distress only feeds him."

"Yes! Yes! There it is, we're talking for twenty fucking seconds and already! Already the tone-deaf and impenetrable bullshit appears, torrents of it! I do believe this is a record!"

"You should have stayed in Johto, Matthew. You were safe there. There were allies."

"Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you."

The woman in black shrugged, and the steelix and the gyarados, looming and enormous, turned to light and flew into her body, behind her sternum. She tapped her collarbone, briefly exposing something bright and opalescent embedded in her flesh, and the charizard shrank, losing its battle evolution, before it dissolved into energy as well.

She turned to Moriko. "Your friend was embedded by a paraslit. I must see him."

Moriko glanced at Matt, who glared daggers even as he clutched Maia around the neck, both exhausted. "I need—who _are_ you? Where did you come from? Do you know the demons? How do you know Matt?"

The woman held up a hand. "After. Your friend first."

At the crater, the woman inclined her head and the ground dipped, excavating a path down into it. Haladana stood cautiously. Russ had risen into a sitting position and was drinking water, but didn't seem to notice them approaching. Sylvia went to him, and he patted her absently.

The woman froze. She turned slowly to look at them. "You—fed him—some of the gray essence." She sighed, a long exhalation. "This is dangerous."

Moriko's stomach dropped.

"Of course!" Matt shouted, swaying. "We did it wrong! What _else_ have we done wrong? This fatal illness— _possession_ —what could we do but treat it incorrectly! Yes!"

"I wish I had known earlier," the woman in black said evenly. "I might have—well. Too late."

She went to Russ and crouched in front of him, raising her goggles. Moriko flinched away at the sight of her eyes.

She had at least a dozen: her own seemed to share their sockets with the eyes of her ensouled pokémon.

"It is only a small amount," the woman said, half to herself. She put her goggles back on. Russ watched her, dreamily, as she stalked away.

"So myst _eeeeeeeeeee_ rious and inscr _uuuuuuu_ table!" Matt screamed after her.

"Humans! Attend again to us!"

Moriko scrabbled up the dirt ramp in response to the reginant's summons, Matt's tirade continuing in the crater.

"Ah—y-your majesty, you're injured."

Kalamatos' jagged chitin was broken and burnt, and her energy was low according to Moriko's pokédex. The reginant made a sweeping motion with her antennae, dismissive.

"So are you, my child. Allow us to be direct—did you lead those demons, the gray and the red, to us and our hive?"

The reginant suddenly seemed very large and very strong to Moriko, and all around were her soldiers, dozens of them, and Moriko's pokémon were weak and her friends could not be left behind.

"No," she breathed, and then more strongly, "no, I've never seen them before. They wanted—they appeared when we were collecting the darkwater, and the gray man, he, the red—the gray man consumed the pool of it, and came out of it stronger."

"As Haladana reported," the queen agreed. "But the gray demon called your friend by name."

"…Yes… they seem… to know one another. And the woman with the white hair."

"And how long have you known your friend?"

"He—Matt—for about two months. Russ I've known for years."

Moriko flinched as Kalamatos drew close to her. She saw her face reflected in the facets of the queen's eye. "Be careful, little earth's daughter," the reginant rumbled.

"I don't know what's happening," Moriko said helplessly.

"I hope you find out," Kalamatos said, and drew away.

The desert plain smoked, scarred by high-level attacks. Ant pokémon buzzed or skittered to and fro as they tended to their hivemates' injuries and began repairing the damage.

The queen conferred briefly with a pyrant. She turned back to Moriko. "I spoke to you earlier of demons. Those two, the red and the gray—I believe they are demon lieutenants, to be precise: consuming energy and defiling it, and dispatching servants to corrupt and kill, like the one afflicting your friend. Is he free of it?"

"Yes—and I caught it, to bring back as evidence. There might be more in Gaiien—" Moriko frowned. "I have no idea how we'd help others—"

"There are… less risky methods to remove a paraslit successfully," said the white-haired woman; she'd crept up on them soundlessly. "If you give it to me, I can have the knowledge disseminated quickly."

Moriko's hand jerked toward the ball. _Yes! Get rid of it! But... who are you?_ What _are you?_

She licked her lips, thinking of the huge pokémon the woman commanded. "No," she said, and it came out a squeak. "I'll give it to a professor in the next city, but please pass on the technique you keep hinting at."

The woman tilted her head and let the pause drag uncomfortably. "Very well," she said finally.

Moriko nodded, trying not to let her relief show.

Kalamatos buzzed a call that seemed to have an excess of harmonics, and several pokémon joined her: Thanasanian flew down, the eyespots bright on her white wings; Haladana approached slowly, still weak, although she had used the offered potion; senior-looking pyrant and soldant broke off from nearby discussions; and the reclusant materialized from a shadow.

"Search the tunnels, free anyone trapped or fainted in the rockfalls," the queen said. The soldant's antennae swept an assent and it clattered off. "Burn away any energy residue from the demon battle," she said to the pyrant. "It is unclean, no one should try to consume it."

The reclusant fixed Moriko with a piercing look, her yellow eyes staring out from her camouflaging wraps. To the reginant, she said, "Shall I restrain the humans? I have smelled deception on them since they entered the hive."

"No, Valanaru—the humans have not been wholly truthful with one another, but they are not allied with the demons. We might all have been destroyed had they not been here to lead Haladana to the darkwater and observe what there transpired."

"Understood."

"Thana, go with the humans when they leave."

The oberant's feathery antennae twitched with surprise. "My place is in the hive, surely?"

"I need intelligence from beyond the desert. The demons are not a local problem. And it has been long and long since I lived with humans," the queen explained. "Learn their latest tricks and report back—and find their queens, and tell them of demons."

Thanasanian bowed stiffly, and turned to Moriko. "I suppose I shall go with you," the oberant said. "Will you use one of your capture devices?"

"O-only if you want to. It's… convenient."

"I will take you three to Port Brac. Tonight," the woman in black broke in, speaking to Moriko. "Your friend—all three of you—need medical care. And I need to speak with a loremaster."

Moriko's head whirled. Was this person safe? But who could defend them if she wasn't? And Moriko desperately wanted away from this place, away from the desert, where everything had at last gone undeniably wrong.

"Our bags are still at the weather station," she said, finally.

"Let us retrieve them, then," the woman said. Two spheres of light flew out of her body, forming into an aerodactyl and a hydreigon. "Ready to fly?"

Moriko stared, not used to seeing someone else ensouled, and realizing how disconcerting it was. The woman in black inclined her head; Moriko shook herself and nodded. "Let's go get Matt and Russ."

Thanasanian bowed again to the queen, who buzzed a farewell.

The white-haired woman's body glowed, turning to light, and when the brightness faded, the black charizard flapped its wings, clearly impatient to be off.

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! The illustration for Meditant, Oberant, and Reclusant is up on my tumblr/deviantart **gaiienpokedex** , and the illustration for Reginant will be up later this week.


	19. Loremaster

**Changelog:** Edited Chapter 29 of Gods and Demons. Grammar and flow corrections. Added two additional scenes at end.

x.x.x.x.x

Chapter 17

The Better to See You With / Loremaster

— _August 3rd, 128 CR_

Moriko couldn't sleep.

They'd flown in at airliner speed, the pokémon they were riding—the pokémon of the woman in black—accelerating and manipulating air-type energy with prodigious skill and power.

They landed at dusk and rushed Russell to the hospital, the woman disappearing soon after. And Moriko couldn't sleep, despite exhaustion, despite a sleepless night and breathless running, despite the protestations of her cramped and stiff body.

She did laundry, washing her fetid clothes and putting freshening tablets in her boots; she sat in the pokémon center cafeteria until it closed; she wandered the terraced streets from lamp to lamp as bugs rasped in the darkness, and Tarahn boasted and preened for the benefit of the street pokémon that turned up to stare and chatter.

Sometime after midnight Tarahn nudged her back to the center, and she crept back into the trainer dorm. She lay down wide awake, and behind her eyes the images roiled, of demons and violent battle, of pokémon mystics and vicious injury. And when she finally fell asleep she dreamed of eyes, of a woman with dozens of them winking all up and down her body, a person hollowed out and devoured by monsters.

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko found her role reversed, getting to play the anxious friend while Russell lay convalescent in the local hospital. He was tired, sick—he'd been drained of energy, that demon power—and the physical wounds the paraslit had dealt him had proved resistant to conventional recovery techniques.

She'd said nothing about the paraslit to the hospital staff, but the data scanned by her pokédex had been synced as soon as they were within reception. Her pokédex was pinging every half-hour with a new contact or request for information from increasingly important-sounding senders, including the Oak Institute and _Zukan Johto_.

She was anonymous for now, the messages delivered through a proxy to her trainer number, but she felt hunted. She recalled that someone discovering a new pokémon species involved a lot of media attention, from the last time such a thing was on TV.

She wasn't quite ready for that, not so soon after seeing her friend as a dying parasite host, or after seeing two men—pokémon—with legendary-level special attacks fight a woman commanding multiple S-tier pokémon to a standstill. Or after seeing that same woman transform into a pokémon.

She needed a professor, someone _neutral—_ and apparently there were a number of them attending a tour of a nearby archeological site. She'd called Prof. Willow's office back in Port Littoral to see if she could get an introduction, and her assistants had answered: Prof. Willow was already at the dig.

Moriko called her pokédex number, and contacted her at last. Prof. Willow's face was ruddy and sunburnt, with her familiar halo of curly blonde hair filling up the pokédex display.

"Moriko! How are you doing?"

"Hi Professor. How's the tour going?"

"Oh, wonderfully, there have been some amazing finds. Archeology is a lot of grunt work and digging, you know—there is very little use of the whip or grappling hook or running from death traps—but sites like this make it all worth it."

"I heard there were some other professors there?"

"Yes, Prof. Maple has been working here the longest—she called in the rest of us."

"Ah, that's good, you must be able to talk about professory things with them?"

Prof. Willow laughed. "Yes, that's about right. Listen, I've got to get back to work—why don't you and Russell and Matt come by, and we'll give you the tour this evening?"

"Well, Russ is laid up at the hospital for a little while, he, uh, got hurt on the way here…"

Prof. Willow hissed in sympathy. "Darn, is he doing well? Nothing serious?"

"Uh, he's, supposed to recover," Moriko said, trying to sound light and keep her face blank. "Uh, I'll let you go, Professor, um, I caught an undocumented pokémon—"

Prof. Willow squealed, and Moriko almost dropped her pokédex. " _That's you!?_ Oh Moriko, the internet has been on _fire_ with speculation the past while—since your pokédex synced, I'm sure—all we have are some blurry pictures from your 'dex and that it's a bug- and psychic-type. Tell me everything!"

A voice from offscreen, on Prof. Willow's side: "Who are you talking to, Adeline?"

Prof. Willow turned away to speak to whoever it was. "Chandra, one of my starter trainers caught the new pokémon!"

A brown-skinned guy around Prof. Willow's age popped into view of the video call. "Congratulations! I'm Prof. Banyan—you must be excited about your find!"

Moriko laughed, brittle. "It's been… an experience…"

Prof. Willow watched her face for a moment before saying, "Tell you what, if you're up for it, come on down to the dig after dinner, and we'll treat you to the experience of having six professors and a host of research assistants, technicians, grad students, and other assorted hangers-on _completely nerding out_ about a new pokémon. You in?"

Moriko found herself smiling despite everything and nodded. "I'll be there. What are the coordinates?"

x.x.x.x.x

It was still a few hours until the meeting with the professors, so Moriko went to visit Russell at the hospital.

Russ had a bed in a shared room, with spaces for each patient delineated by hanging curtains. At the moment there was only him and another trainer, who had broken his ankle and was recovering from orthopedic surgery and a strong course of tissue regrowth.

There was a common TV and they were watching a rerun of the first episode of _Pok_ _é_ _mon Journey Kalos_. The protagonist, Skye, played by a Kantonian pop idol of yesteryear, had just received her first pokémon from Prof. Laurel.

"Fennekin is so cute!" Skye said. "I'm going to name her Blaze!" She grinned as the fennekin yipped happily.

"'Blaze' is the most popular nickname for fire-type starter pokémon," said her pokédex in a lilting synthesized feminine voice. "Current central database counts ten thousand, seven hundred, and eighty-eight fire-type pokémon registered with the nickname 'Blaze'."

Skye frowned cutely, pausing for the dubbed-in laughter to subside. "Oh. Well, how about Ember?"

"'Ember' is the third most popular nickname for fire-type starter pokém—"

The character had a glint in her eye as she interrupted the machine. "How about Pascal, then, after Blaise Pascal?"

"A pun, or play on words—"

Skye wound her arm back to throw the pokédex in a nearby lake.

"Willful destruction of the pokédex is not recommended," the pokédex intoned. Canned laughter brayed. "Replacement pokédexes can be obtained from the trainer registry for fifteen thousand yen with two pieces of government-issued ID."

"Skye was my favorite," Russ said, unfocusing from the TV. He was rubbing one of Sylvia's ears absently. "It drove me crazy how Pascal only evolved into braixen, though. Delphox is badass."

"They kept all the pokémon cute and unevolved on that show for some reason," Moriko said. "They replaced the pokémon actors with younger pokémon when they evolved. They replaced the actress playing Skye too."

"Well, I suppose it's possible to get sick of pouting at the camera and grueling filming schedules. I sometimes wished for a sassy pokédex VI when I was a kid but I think I'd end up hucking it in the lake too."

"Pokédexes are waterproof now, anyway."

"What a weird show. I liked _Zukan Kanzen_ better. Prof. Kaede knew her stuff."

"I liked the episode when she interviewed the porygon-2 who had been to the moon. Changed my life."

"I can still sing the pokérap. _Mewtwo, tentacruel, aerodactyl_ —"

"Please stop or I will disconnect your IV."

"Noooo, my druuuugs," Russ moaned.

They watched Skye trade barbs with another trainer who would end up joining her to travel by the end of the episode.

Moriko sighed. "Maybe we should have gone to another region. A safer one."

Russ shrugged. "Yes, obviously. Too late now." He smiled ruefully.

They talked about innocuous things for a little while, but Russell soon dozed off; they had given him something that kept putting him to sleep. The wounds on his back had refused to heal under potion, and even regen had done nothing. This apparently meant that Russell's natural healing had been disrupted, probably by something the paraslit had secreted. The doctors wanted to give his body a chance to clear out the anti-healing factor before they tried anything else, and were keeping him on an IV drip of antibiotics, painkillers, and electrolytes.

"Do you want to stay, Sylvia?"

The borfang grunted and hunkered down by Russ's bed, her scaled and furred form strange looking in the pristine hospital room. Moriko left to let him sleep.

"Heyyyy… cool trainer… wanna battle?" said the other patient groggily, as she walked out of the room.

He had a timbark curled up beside his bed that put its ears back and looked apologetic. She winked at the pokémon and kept walking.

x.x.x.x.x

The dig was inland, back into the scrub without quite reaching the desert. Moriko didn't recognize anything special from the air as Liona approached the site: there were tents in one area, and roped-off squares dotted with flags and markers, and floodlights for working at night with their solar collectors still deployed in the summer evening.

Prof. Willow hugged Moriko when she arrived, and a storm of introductions followed that she rapidly lost the thread of. Dozens of researchers and students went by in a blur; there were a few humanoid psychic pokémon among them, and rock- or fighting-type heavy lifters who hung back and waved shyly when she smiled at them.

They guided her into a tent filled with laboratory equipment on tables and piled-up gear in every corner. She turned the paraslit in its pokéball over to Prof. Larch, a dark-skinned, portly woman with voluminous dark hair, who placed it in a PC viewer.

The program was more advanced than the one at the pokémon center: Prof. Larch's computer came alive with data that Moriko couldn't follow, although the techs and grad students were nodding and making significant remarks about egg groups, auras, and energy density.

The computer returned the residual image of the paraslit after a few minutes, displaying it in grayscale fairly accurately.

"You said that you suspect this is a cryptopokémon, Moriko?"

Moriko nodded. "What we… what happened to Russell is… related. Matt showed me the entry on a cryptid they call myiaslice or paraslit—"

"Oh fuck me," one of the grad students exclaimed. "Myiaslice is real!? What's next—chupascabrous?"

"Probably slendamantis," someone said.

" _No._ "

Moriko found herself relating the story of how Russell had become ill, how they had discovered the presence of the paraslit, and a fictional version of how they had finally driven it out. The mood among the researchers grew more and more somber, and several started to look embarrassed at their earlier excitement.

"Ah, no wonder you didn't want to release it to show it off," Prof. Banyan said.

Moriko nodded. The professors were talking among themselves, and a knot of grad students had opened up a cryptopokémon website and were groaning and hissing at whatever they were reading. She felt their pitying looks and stared at the tent floor.

The paraslit had been quiescent, luckily; usually pokémon could only release themselves from a pokéball when they were healthy and experienced, but who even knew with the demon pokémon. Pokéballs were designed to feel like a safe place, like the places that fainted pokémon would retreat to as energy—although a minority of pokémon couldn't stand them, like Vleridin—so perhaps it felt secure for now.

A dangerous pokémon could be put in a locked ball, which wouldn't open unless someone outside triggered the release, but the technology was controversial and there was a great deal of paperwork, special permission, and oversight required to have one. It was a tool for researchers, not for a broke traveling trainer.

There was a time when Moriko would have felt immensely proud to say that she had helped discover a new pokémon, and would have been hungry for the attention and regard. But for the paraslit she only felt a sick desperation to get rid of it—and terror that maybe she couldn't, that others wouldn't understand the danger it posed.

Eventually the professors had more questions, and she showed them the pictures that Matt had taken of Russell's wounds. Most of the grad students left at that, the party atmosphere well-faded, while the professors studied the pictures grimly.

"Is there going to be, uh… when Prof. Redwood exhibited that newly discovered pokémon—" Moriko shook her head and got to the point. "I want to be anonymous. I don't—I don't want to talk about this to random people."

"Absolutely, Moriko," Prof. Willow said, setting aside her tea mug and putting a hand on Moriko's shoulder. "If you like, we can conditionally reveal your name a few years in the future. It's a useful notoriety at times after the initial furor dies down."

"Uh, maybe… I just want you guys to take it away and study it. And people need to know, if they see one around, it's not cool—it's dangerous—it needs to be in a, in a locked ball—"

Prof. Willow nodded. "I believe you entirely, Moriko, and you have a good idea of how we're going to proceed already. Classification of pokémon species is Prof. Tsuga's specialty—she'll handle it."

"Carefully," Prof. Tsuga added. She was a tall, somber east Asian woman with silver in her ultramarine hair. "You and your friends deserve a long holiday after this."

Moriko considered this briefly and then shrugged. "I guess we'll keep on with our journey after Russell recovers."

"There's no need to rush through it," Prof. Tsuga said. "People and pokémon need time to relax."

"I never liked how this league set the age at eighteen," Prof. Banyan said. "I did one badge a summer starting when I was eleven back in Kanto, and that was a fine pace."

"Sure, but who took care of your pokémon in between?" Prof. Tsuga asked.

"Oh, we had battle club and clinics through the year, so they got quite a bit of exercise."

"And that takes time, money, and engagement from professors, gym leaders, and veteran trainers, all of whom are spread out in this region."

"It's a good scene in Port Littoral," Prof. Willow said. "The battle clubs have a diverse membership in age and experience, and many veterans and career trainers volunteer to instruct."

"I've seen your facility, Adeline, and you've got dozens of pokémon on the grounds that you're taking care of for starter trainers. You can do that now, but what happens when time or money run out? What do the kids who weren't chosen for the starter program do?" Prof. Tsuga said, gesturing with a stylus. It had the air of a familiar argument.

"Kids should just bond with one pokémon, like in the old days," Prof. Larch interjected without looking up from the PC viewer. "Most end up with one or two after battling falls through, and it's them who go on to do something useful instead of flashy TV tournaments."

"I do think that you should be able to do a few badges as a teenager," Prof. Banyan said. "Gaiien keeps you pent up until you're done high school, and then you try to do eight in a summer with little experience."

Moriko shifted uneasily. "We've been doing okay, considering…" _Considering murder, demon pokémon, pokémon mystics…_

"Not to disparage your achievements," Prof. Banyan added, placating. "Just that it's a lot, and you deserve rest if you need it, or to go home."

Later, Prof. Willow walked with Moriko away from the tents. It was dark, with only a band of lightness to mark the western sky, but the glare from the dig lighting made it hard to see the full spray of the stars.

"Everyone back in PL is asking if you all will come home soon," Prof. Willow said quietly. "Trainers being attacked—you had an illness in Russet Town, I heard—and now Russell has been hurt—"

Moriko lined up a response in her mind and then realized that she didn't feel defensive or hurt or angry, and in fact going back to Port Littoral seemed like a wonderful idea. She found herself thinking fondly of bicycling along the waterfront, junior-level pokémon battles with local kids, and appreciating the wide world of pokémon from the safety of a desktop computer. She knew intellectually that there had been a good reason she'd wanted so badly to leave—but all the fights and the yelling and Angela always being a spoiled brat seemed like minor annoyances at this distance.

Russ had been hurt, hurt badly, and he was only along as an amusement before he started school. Rufus and Tarahn would follow her anywhere; Thanasanian the oberant could go with any other trainer to fulfill her mission. But she thought of Liona, stripped of her protectors, who needed to get strong before she could go back to the wild, and of a promise made to a certain ill-tempered and ill-treated mooskeg.

Prof. Willow looked at her expectantly, and Moriko felt a sudden affection for her: the middle-aged professor, fostering young kids' interest in pokémon and in science, giving them starter pokémon, the symbol of nascent adulthood and source of protection. Her love for all those kids had always been genuine, not haphazard or uncertain, and she wanted to protect Moriko now: there were forces abroad that a starter was not shield against.

"I'll see what Russ thinks when he's feeling better," Moriko said.

x.x.x.x.x

Port Brac was the southernmost city in Gaiien, actually a series of several contiguous towns rather than a single settlement. The bluff that gave the city its name was terraced, and steep paths led down to the blue-green water in numerous protected coves where boats bobbed and people could be seen swimming and fishing with the gregarious pokémon who lived nearby.

There was a large native Gaiienese population, descended from the hardy people of the second crossing, and the old villages had been established by their nomadic, seafaring fishers before the modern era. Today relations between the second- and third-crossing humans were cordial, although there was still a thread of resentment among the old supplanted clans.

Downwind of the city were the deep-draft docks and industrial areas that received raw materials by ship or by rail, and performed various arcane processing steps before loading goods to be transported away elsewhere in Gaiien or to other regions. Port Brac was a trading city, a place where goods from Tanos, the tropical region to the south, or from the volcanic islands of Kelau to the west, would make a stop before continuing on to be sold in the densely settled regions like Kanto or Johto.

Moriko wandered the town, walking along terraced streets lined with houses like bright toys, and climbing long winding paths from hill to hill. She had the pokémon out and walking for exercise, some of hers and some of Russ's.

Thanasanian the oberant was a favorite, drawing many admiring glances for her rich fur and striking markings. A pair of girls asked if they could take a picture with her.

"I'm cute, too," Tarahn muttered, watching that production. "Girls like me."

"Make a cute face," Moriko said, and crouched down beside him. She turned the pokédex camera toward them, and he opened his eyes wide and stuck out his tongue very slightly, which met the requirement.

"See? A social sensation." He bumped his nose against the screen. "Make it look better."

Moriko played with the lighting and laughed at the saturated colors of her green hair, and Tarahn's yellow and purple motley. "We look like a Mardi Gras float."

"Better, I said!"

A few trainers had wanted to battle as well, and some of Rufus's and Tarahn's attacks actually scorched or melted the sand or asphalt paths. Moriko was pleased at their strength, but it was a loss in other ways. Their physical attacks had been dangerous for years and a playful swipe or headbutt from an adult pokémon could injure a human badly. She'd had to be careful in choosing battle locations since they needed room to maneuver safely, but now their elemental techniques were catching up, and that real fire and lightning could seriously harm someone.

Moriko sat in the shade by the beach for a while, petting Tarahn. She watched Liona and Keigan circle far above, the nigriff and springbuck racing each other and diving to brush the waves curling over the shorebreak.

She read her pokédex manual, something she'd only really done before to waste time, desperately waiting for the day when she'd get to leave Port Littoral. She vaguely remembered the beginner articles: tips for new trainers; treating pokémon with respect; and the process of raising young pokémon properly, especially when their power and intelligence increased dramatically after evolution.

There were technical articles she'd ignored about battle mechanics that actually seemed to explain just what Vleridin had revealed about transferring energy, though in jargon with confusing empirical formulas. It confirmed that pokémon could gain energy outside of battling through evolution stones, expensive rare candies, or the elemental fruits that trainers called "berries" regardless of size or provenance. There were only footnotes, though, on the absorption of energy from the environment. Best-known though apparently little understood was the use of environmental energy for certain pokémon to evolve, and the purification of the abused and brainwashed pokémon called "shadow pokémon" that were sometimes used by criminal organizations.

Moriko thought of the professors up on the hill and wondered if the mooskeg could teach _them_ something, but she wasn't sure how much Vleridin could help. Her instructions to Maia and Sylvia, though successful, had been along the lines of "just go here!" unless some other mysterious, wordless communication had passed between them.

That distraction aside, what she wanted were articles on battling. Moriko felt nervous reading the lists of energetic attacks that couldn't be used outside of attack-hardened gyms or inside city limits once a pokémon passed that critical point into being 'high level'. She'd have been fined for battling inside the city today if a pokémon ranger or police officer had seen her—maybe just scolded, since the effect had been borderline. But she felt proud as well; maybe they'd be at the right level for tournaments at the end of the summer.

Moriko stared out to sea, thinking of those little scorches in comparison to the huge burnt scars and real molten rock that the demon pokémon aricaust had left. They had evidence for _that_ encounter, but it was confused basic-model pokédex aura readings, attackdex analysis, and blurry photos from Liona's back—the kind of stuff people put up on the internet all the time, mostly hoaxes with a sprinkling of tantalizing unproven incidents.

Where had they gone, the gray demon and the red? What was their purpose? They'd thrown the reginant hive into disarray, and the queen had sent Thanasanian with them—

Moriko looked over at Thana, who was sitting in the sun and staring out at the ocean. The oberant was an adult and had lived her life as a wild pokémon, but today she'd barely strayed more than a few feet away from Moriko, the longest trip being a short flight against the breeze off the ocean.

"Thanasanian, how are you feeling? This must be a lot different than what you're used to."

The oberant waved a claw. "It's all… very new. There are so many green plants here, and the human hives are above ground, but very beautiful, and the sea—look, you can look as far as you can and the sky touches it. Is this the place of your people?"

"No, we're from another town, up the coast to the north."

"I have to learn about how humans live, but… how do you keep safe without your family? We have not been attacked or challenged in this place, and yet it doesn't belong to you?"

Moriko shook her head and tried to see the oberant's alien assumptions. "We… all humans, we all agree not to… we all live together even though we're not all family, and if someone attacks you seriously, then you can tell the police or pokémon rangers."

"I see, these people are the soldier caste of your society?"

"Uh… something like that. That's their career and responsibility."

"They aren't born for that purpose?"

"No, most humans don't know their… purpose. They have to try a lot of things first."

The oberant hummed a little to herself. "I see, yes. Humans are very adaptable, I have heard this. Moriko, I… I feel nervous, walking, with so many strangers around."

"They won't do anything more than ask to battle—or to take a picture with you. But if that makes you uncomfortable, you can refuse. You don't have to be out, you could stay in the pokémon center or in your pokéball."

"Oh! Is that allowed?"

"Yes, of course—everyone is out because they want to be, you can stay wherever you like. Some people don't let their pokémon out enough and they let themselves out and get into trouble." Moriko smiled sadly and scratched Tarahn's neck. "That was us when I was in school."

"How does one get into trouble?" Thanasanian asked seriously.

"Battling without a trainer," Tarahn said, purring. He'd done that enough times to get a talking-to from police pokémon. "And if someone decides you're a wild pokémon and doesn't listen to you, or you can't make yourself heard or understood, they could capture you, and they could take you far away before anyone knows what's wrong."

Ideally an accidentally—or deliberately—re-captured pokémon would be noticed during registration of the capture and comparison of the pokémon signature to the data in the cloud, or at the double-check during pokémon center healing. But it was possible that someone could capture a pokémon on their way out of town and not meet those checks, or to deliberately seek to mask that data. Criminal gangs had tricks to hide stolen pokémon, although it was getting harder as the technology improved.

"What if," Thana said, "someone tries to battle with _me_?"

"Just run, if you just leave they're not supposed to chase you down," Tarahn said. "And if they do then you can hinder them. If you really fight and get weak, that's how they might re-capture you."

"Never attack a human, you can hurt them very badly very easily, even with just minor attacks," Moriko added. "And if you're high level enough, your energy attacks will hurt them too."

"Moriko, where can I speak with your—leaders? Human queens?"

The oberant had been given a mission to pass on the information about the demon pokémon, and she'd probably go back to her hive when it was done. Moriko quashed the thought of misleading her so that she'd stay with them longer, as much as she hoped that Thana would help her against—well, was she even going on to the tier seven dark-type gym? Maybe it didn't matter.

"Do you have anything else to report? We spoke with the professors and gave them our observations about the demon pokémon, and now paraslit will be officially recognized as a real pokémon, so people will hear about it and hopefully won't be taken by surprise by it."

"That was one group of humans—should we not go on to others, to tell them also? Should we not have been telling passerby in the town?"

Moriko winced at the thought of the kids and tourists in town shrieking over cryptidex pictures. "The professors will put that information on the internet and on the news, which is the best way to reach a lot of people." Seeing the oberant's blank look, Moriko got out her pokédex. "Humans can record information and send it to others electronically, so it can reach dozens of regions and millions of people."

Thana held the pokédex in her claws and whisked her antennae over it. "Yes…? Sorry, this just smells like your hands."

Moriko pressed the touchscreen and a video came up with a pokémon professor, Prof. Cypress, explaining the crystal structure of evolution stones.

"Oh! It makes a picture, and there's a voice…" Thanasanian kept listening, looking back and forth between it and Moriko. "I can only understand it if you're paying attention."

Right, that was how pokémon speech worked—it was partially telepathic, so it needed special devices to record it. Pokémon could speak to anyone, regardless of language, but could only understand ordinary audio recordings if they could skim the meaning off the top of the mind of someone listening.

Moriko pocketed the pokédex again. "All humans can understand that if they speak that language, so we can make those pictures and tell each other things from far away. Some pokémon can learn to understand human speech directly, but it takes time. In the meantime, I can try to tell you what you want to know."

"For now, as it arises, I appreciate your explanations… although… I wish to know about that person who appeared to battle the demons. She was…"—Thana opened and closed her claws, searching—" _crowded_. I have never seen the like."

 _Crowded_. Moriko laughed a little, nervously, thinking of the woman's many, many eyes, the eyes of the pokémon that ensouled her.

"Neither have I, she… I don't know who she is. _What_ she is."

"She knew your friend. The gray demon knew your friend also."

The woman in black knew Matt. The gray man knew Matt. They called him by name, implied a history—Johto, allies—

Moriko remembered all of Matt's strange moods, his melancholies and significant remarks, his biting impatience, his sudden shuddering fears.

She clenched her fists, thinking of Russell in the desert station, in the reginant cave, wan and drawn and—dying. He had been dying.

 _Matt, who are you? What did you_ do _?  
_

She found herself weighing her options, contemplating the strength of Matt's pokémon, the type matchups.

"We need to take a walk," she said.

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko found Matt lounging in the sun, using Maia as a backrest. Sai the dragoon was nearby, perched on a fencepost and looking at the ocean, and Dzalar the svarog was downwind with her smoke streaming away in the breeze.

"Matt, I need to talk to you."

Matt's pokémon snapped their heads around to look at her, at Rufus and Tarahn standing casually behind her, something in her voice, in her stance, in her thudding heartbeat. A bird called somewhere in the silence.

Matt broke the spell: he sighed and sat up, looking at his hands. "That can't be good," he said lightly, but he didn't look at her.

"Matt, I… I haven't been that friendly to you on our journey, but I wanted you to know that I really appreciated that you were here when… when all that stuff happened to Russell. And I wanted you to know that I want to help you, with what's troubling you."

She took a deep breath.

"But, Matt, to do that, I… I need you to explain, concisely, all the shit that's going on. It seems to… affect our safety. As a group."

Matt shrugged. "We made an assumption of risk when we went on this journey."

Moriko crouched, trying to get him to look at her, but he'd closed his eyes and was weaving and unweaving his fingers nervously. "Matt, at the weather station, I said something like 'this is all my fault', and you started to say that it was _yours_."

She crept closer and he withdrew, smaller, into the curve of Maia's body, and the tibyss sat up straighter and put up her fins, the bristling quills instantly making her larger.

"Matt. The gray man. He knew you. The reginant queen, she asked me if we brought him to the nest. Did you? Wh—what demon was going to eat your dragoon, before that, even?" she interjected, remembering.

Matt turned away from her, and Maia showed her teeth, and Tarahn showed his.

"Matt. I need you to tell me everything, or I will leave you here. You can join with another group of trainers, you can go home. You're not helpless. Or you can _explain_. _For once_. Decide."

Matt trembled, finally looking at her, and she leaned back uncomfortably at his wide-open eyes. His mouth pinched down into a line, and he shook more and more violently until Moriko opened her pokédex to its phone app and was about to dial emergency.

Maia curled around Matt, blocking him from view, and she make a clicking, growling sound to him. Matt clutched at her, his arms trembling.

Maia looked at her. "He can't explain."

"He _won't_ , and he needs—"

" _He can't_ ," Maia growled, flashing a fang, and Tarahn sparked a warning—

A new voice: "Matthew is under a psychic compulsion. A curse."

Moriko rose, darting to the side, and Rufus put himself between her and the newcomer, his armor plates whispering over each other as he shifted.

It was the woman in black. Her charizard was hanging back, charcoal-black and enormous, its blue flames nearly invisible in the sunlight.

"He can't explain," she said, walking in a broad arc around them. "He can't ask for aid. He suffers and suffers, and every moment of his suffering feeds back to the thing that put the curse on him, and makes it stronger."

"A curse? He's been magicked? Why are you telling—why are you _lying_?" Moriko's voice arced, incredulous. "Just _say_ , just tell—do you think it's worse to be sick than to lie and lie?"

"Where are you from, Matthew?" the woman asked.

"Johto," he choked out.

Maia butted his shoulder with her head, comforting.

"When were you born?"

"In the autumn of 102 CR."

Moriko stopped. "You're… twenty-six? I thought—

"He is. Well, and he isn't. Sixteen going on sixteen, forever. I was there when he was cursed, ten years ago," said the woman in black.

"There _too late_ ," Matt said, nearly spitting.

"And what have you been doing since then?" she continued impassively. "Wandering. Shunning help. Taking odd jobs. Betting on battles. Running."

"Describing yourself?"

"You should have stayed in Johto, Matthew. We can protect you, shield you."

"I don't want your help," Matt said, words muffled as he pressed his face against Maia's side. "I don't want your _expertise_."

"He grows stronger every time he finds a grave," the woman said, her voice betraying emotion for the first time. "Do you understand? I have fought him with all my pokémon, ensouled pokémon, old pokémon, high-level, battle-evolved, and _I cannot win_. He is steps ahead of me, and every moment he is still yet ahead because every moment you feed him, and every moment you are making this task more—"

"He wasn't supposed to come here," Matt said in a whisper. He dashed his hand across his eyes, and Maia clucked to him.

"The continent where the myth _originated_ and you didn't think—"

"Exactly! He came from here! I thought he'd be finished!"

"No and no," the woman in black said quietly.

"What are you _talking_ about?" Moriko demanded.

The woman flipped a hand impatiently. "Pokémon want energy to grow stronger. Humans have energy that isn't accessible to pokémon—except to demon pokémon. Paraslit are the least of them but they too have that ability, and demons grow and grow at a rate regular pokémon cannot touch—unless they too take human energy."

"…How?"

The woman in black studied her briefly. "You have some experience with ensouled pokémon. How did that come to pass, I wonder?"

"Vleridin fought for me—for herself, really. And she was wounded, and she wouldn't go into a ball, so she… ensouled me, and… my energy…"

The woman stilled at that. "Did she, now?"

Moriko felt dizzy. "You said…"

"Only demons can take energy, yes, but it can be given," the woman said, and Moriko could breathe again.

"All your ensouled pokémon—that's how—"

"Yes, but even then I cannot keep up: I have one person's energy, and my opponent has a dozen, through the energetic connections—through the _curses_ he's placed on people like Matthew. We keep them safe, try to cut them off from him, but Matthew shunned us, and went to Gaiien, where our enemy could take from him freely."

Matt was shaking his head; she continued, savage: "Yes! How many days have you felt sick and weary here, and had to fight against his will, had to fight his injunction against harming yourself or heading into simple dangers like leaving the house?"

Maia growled at her, a sound that gave Moriko a frisson of fear, and the woman actually snarled back with a dragon-type's voice—Maia subsided, her ears back, more out of surprise than actual threat.

"And _you_ are damning him, tibyss," she said.

"I'm protecting him, many-soul," Maia said, disgust in her deep voice.

Moriko looked between them, helpless. "What is—your enemy, the gray demon—what _is_ he?"

"He's a man who thought he was a demon master," the woman in black said. "He allowed a demon to ensoul him, a demon that is ascendant in his body, and it has been my life's work—more than one lifetime's work—to separate them.

"The gray essence is a god's essence, a god's blood, a god who was destroyed and sundered and interred in pieces across the earth during the dawn of days, and these graves were protected by wards to make them impossible to sense… For a time. But everything ends, and one by one the old protections have fallen, and he wanders, and whispers and rumors come to him. Each time he gets a little more power, a god's power and knowledge, and as he wanders he destroys and kills, and calls other demons to him."

"…Can we help?" Moriko heard herself say.

The woman in black was silent a few moments. "Your Vleridin—how long had she been with you, when she ensouled you?"

"Not long, I'd just caught her, and she hated the ball."

"To ensoul a wild pokémon—that's not so common. You have a second-crossing ancestor?"

"My—mom," Moriko said, and regretted it instantly. _Don't ask me any more don't ask don't make me remember don't—_

"Do you know of battle evolution?" the woman asked, mercifully. She did something with her hands and a sphere glittered between two of her fingers, throwing off iridescence in the sunlight. "A focus for the trainer's energy, a link to one's partner"—the black charizard rumbled—"and a temporary evolution occurs. All the stronger ensouled, but it has its dangers. You were hurt?"

"I was—no, I just, I lost consciousness. For two days."

"Dangerous, but possible in an emergency. Better to have been partners from childhood, as they did in the old days."

The woman looked back at the charizard, turned to Moriko. "You want to help? I have professors and mystics and rangers on my side, but I need an army—and there will be a terrible cost to my soldiers. I cannot ask it of a young person with so much yet to lose."

"I _won't_ go back to Johto," Matt said, sulkily.

"But I can teach you how to shield _him_ ," the woman in black added.

Her statement hung in the air, a promise, and Matt's features softened, considering this.

"What did you tell the professors?" the woman asked.

"Not… everything," Moriko said.

"And whom did you speak with?"

"Professor Willow. And other professors were there, and their assistants and students—"

"There are other professors here that you may tell the whole story to, professors who are masters of lore as well as knowledge. Come with me."

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko found herself back at the digsite after a short flight, at a set of tents away from the others she'd visited. All around was grassy scrub, but nearby the turf had been peeled back and the sandy soil excavated, revealing cracked stone: a road, or a stone courtyard; it was hard to tell from the narrow pit.

In the main tent were two professors she hadn't met: Professor Maple, a stout brown-skinned woman with close-cropped curly red hair, and Professor Linden, a pale, thin man with sparse blond hair.

Prof. Maple shrugged and went back to the specimen she was cleaning, an array of fine tools on a palette beside her.

"Ah, Lady Black," Prof. Linden said. "What brings you to Gaiien?"

"My enemy," the woman in black said. She circled the table to look at the specimen. "What is this?"

"So you're weird to everyone, not just me?" Matt asked rudely.

Prof. Linden raised his eyebrows, but the ghost of a smirk crossed his face. "Lady Black was part of the third crossing," he said mildly. "Like most ladies her age, she has a few peculiarities."

Moriko stared, as the woman certainly didn't look over a century old, even with her white hair—but she had implied as much, earlier, and claimed that there was a discrepancy with Matt's age as well.

The woman in black ignored this, listening as Prof. Maple spoke.

"These ruins predate the earliest crossings by humans to this world—you may be familiar with my work and that of the previous Maple on pre-crossing relics—we're trying to find out who these builders were."

"My specialty is pokémon mythology and culture—the beliefs of pokémon themselves," said Prof. Linden to Moriko. "Second-crossing humans have developed plenty of legends about rare and legendary pokémon in the centuries they've been here, but I'm more interested in the mythologies told by pokémon. I sift through such accounts to try to find out what was happening on this world before humans arrived."

"We've met some wild pokémon with stories about that sort of thing," Moriko offered.

"I'd like to hear them if you have time, and first-hand if any of those pokémon joined you," Linden said, nodding. "How did you meet with… the singular Lady Black?"

Moriko related the paraslit story again, this time the full account at the woman's prompting: the meeting with the reginant colony, their discovery of darkwater, their pursuit by the demons, and how the woman in black had narrowly engaged their attention so they could escape.

Prof. Linden nodded through the story and glanced at 'Lady Black'. "The usual excitement that seems to occur when you're around. What did you need from me?"

"Gray essence sites seem to be correlated with pre-crossing ruins—I need a list of known locations in Gaiien."

Prof. Maple nodded, and took the battered old-model pokédex that the woman held to upload the information.

"I'm surprised," said Prof. Linden. "You used to just sense him and tear off."

"He's stronger here."

Prof. Maple and the woman moved to another computer terminal. Moriko released Thanasanian, who looked around the tent curiously.

"Thana, this is Prof. Linden—he makes records of stories told by pokémon. Do you remember any, like the one Kalamatos told us, about legends of long-ago times?"

The oberant bowed and made an expansive gesture with her forelegs. "Greetings, I am Thanasanian, advisor to Kalamatos, currently traveling with trainer Moriko. I do recall numerous legends. Professor Linden—you have a title, do you fulfill an important role in human society?"

Prof. Linden barked a laugh and then waved, apologizing.

"Ah," Thana said doubtfully, "I've made a social misstep."

"Not at all, that was a self-deprecating laugh," Prof. Linden said. "Yes, you could say that—I have specialized knowledge, among humans."

"Oh, a loremaster."

Prof. Linden blinked and his eyes flicked over to where the woman in black was sitting, waiting with unnatural stillness. "I've been called that," he said. "Humans came to this world relatively recently, and so I hope to find out what happened among pokémon before then."

"Humans… yes, there was a time when they weren't here, I think. In the age of gods."

Prof. Linden drew out his tablet-sized pokédex and tabbed on a program. "I'll record this, if you don't mind."

The oberant repeated the legend Kalamatos had told them, about the primeval world ruled by pokémon gods: the betrayal and the first murder that unbalanced their pantheon, the creation of demon pokémon, and the war that destroyed that idyllic ecosystem.

"Do you know where those gods went? Why did they have to leave?"

"In those days there was more energy, and so there was no fighting or killing, and the gods could exist here easily without needing to sleep all the time—elder pokémon have to sleep for years and years, they need so much energy—but after they fought the world was broken."

Prof. Linden nodded, his fingers dancing over a projected keyboard. "Did pokémon build cities or monuments in that age?"

Thana swept her antennae, dismissive. "Not us, certainly. We like caves. Better to feel the ground under your feet, and to sense it. Perhaps it was done by rock-types to amuse the gods."

Moriko broke in: "If demons depend on humans for energy—but they were made before humans came, what did they do then?"

"Without humans, they live like ronin," Prof. Linden said. "They kill other pokémon for energy, but they have no society and they're hated and reviled. Humans crossing to this world must have been a great boon for them. Perhaps they're becoming more common now that they have such a food source—and they can attack subtly, as the legends about paraslit indicate."

"The smaller ones we have seen now and then through the years, but the great demons give them purpose," Thanasanian said. "My queen set me to a task, to go out into the world and to warn humans and pokémon of the demon lieutenants. It seems they grow in power, though the many-souled woman pursues them."

"I will aid you in this task," Prof. Linden said formally. He tapped his pokédex. "I'll transmit this information to other professors, other—loremasters."

He bowed, and Thana bowed back.

x.x.x.x.x

The woman in black left the tent when her map was updated, and Moriko and Matt followed.

"You're going to help Matt?"

The woman looked him over and inclined her head. Matt looked away.

"Not tonight," she said. "I'll be back."

Space distorted as she transformed into the black charizard, and she tore into the sky in a rush of blue flame and a concussion of displaced air.

"Kids," Prof. Linden said, following them, "a piece of advice from an old fogey: go home."

Moriko looked at the ground. "I've been thinking about it," she said, as Matt frowned at her and the professor.

Prof. Linden sighed. "It's hazardous to your health to be around her for long, alright? I get a chill every time she shows up."

"Has she—does she hurt people?"

Linden made a softening gesture. "I'm not saying she's bad, I'm saying… she goes where the trouble is, and she can withstand a lot more trouble than a couple teenage trainers. No offense."

"And she's not human."

Prof. Linden jerked and looked behind him: a young boy—a young _girl_ with white-blond hair came through the tent flap. He gave his daughter—the resemblance was pretty clear—a look, but sighed and nodded.

"There are… pokémon who can take human form," Prof. Linden said, looking into the distance. "Pokémon have a… strong inclination to maintain their form—healing and their transport via PC are dependent on this property to some extent—but powerful ones can change themselves, change their size, even take new forms entirely. Legendaries are famous for doing this to escape detection." He looked at his daughter again and shrugged. "It's possible."

Matt made a face. "So, what, she's a legendary pokémon?" he asked, sulky. "A ghost?"

"We've seen her ensoul several pokémon, though—can pokémon do that to each other?" Moriko asked.

"Maybe? Maybe she's a legendary—maybe she's a number of pokémon, working together to put together a human face. But we don't ask questions—mystics like her, trainers with one foot in the wild and one in civilization, are essential to the safety of our world. Pokémon talk to each other and to them, and we get early warnings."

Moriko watched him. "Warnings about what?"

"Do you still learn about ancient pokémon in school?"

"Of course," Moriko said. "Drills all the time—"

"We haven't seen one for a couple of years," Prof. Linden said. "We're waiting for the big one. You're trainers, adult trainers—you're part of that network now. You need to be alert, use your pokémon to help people, if an ancient pokémon appears. Remember the drills. Don't get caught up in this business. Go home."

"The next badge is just across the strait," Matt objected.

"They come out of the sea, most of the time." Prof. Linden shook his head. "Sleep on it."

They walked away from that meeting dazed, tired from contemplating all the danger that the adults seemed to have long grown used to, had used up their lives fighting—and they had to walk back to the pokémon center on foot without the woman in black, Matt lacking a flying pokémon who could give him a lift.

"Are you really going back home?" Matt asked quietly.

"I—"

"Hey! _Hey!_ I'm coming with you."

Matt and Moriko turned; it was Prof. Linden's daughter.

"Are you? Why?" Matt asked.

She faced them, grinning, hands on hips. "Archeology turned out to be hotter and more boring than I expected. I miss pokémon battling."

Moriko looked her over—short, very pale skin, ragged jeans and faded old tournament t-shirt—"I don't think you're old enough," she said.

Linden Jr. tutted and keyed on her pokédex to its ID screen: she was fourteen years old, and Moriko opened her mouth to say as much, until her eyes fell on the Kantoan League emblem on its corner.

"You have eight Kanto badges," Moriko choked out.

"I kind of cheated," Linden Jr. said cheerfully. "I had my grandma's pokémon. I fought every gym at tier eight, but it wasn't really a challenge. I'm raising my own pokémon now though, Abram is along more for company."

There was a metallic sound, and Abram slouched out of the shadows to stand behind her. It was a huge metagross covered in superficial scars—old injuries, vicious ones, to still show on that steel integument after pokémon center healing—who looked them over, appraising.

Moriko realized she was calculating the benefit an old and battle-ready metagross would have on their group safety as they— _if_ they—went on into wild Gaiien, and shook her head. "We might just go home to Port Littoral pretty soon. And anyway you need your dad's permission, or he could tell pokémon rangers that we abducted you or something."

"I'll get it," Linden Jr. said confidently.

"Okay," Moriko said, skeptical. "Well, look for us at the pokémon center, I guess—"

"I'll bring camping supplies and food and stuff," Linden Jr. said, ticking off items on her fingers. "It'll be great. I hope we see another demon pokémon, I'll take the credit for its discovery if you want."

"Ah, youth," Matt said as Linden Jr. hurried back into the professors' camp.

"Oh my _gods_ ," Moriko muttered.

x.x.x.x.x

Takktktkk flapped onto the pokémon center roof, an annoyed exeggutor's psychic attack washing over him harmlessly. He heard it stomp off in a huff, and laughed to himself, gulping down chunks of the berry he'd stolen. Joining with a human trainer was the best thing he'd ever done. He couldn't have imagined that there were so many slow, credulous people in the _world_ with so many things worth taking from them.

The warm glow of the pomeg berry's energy spread through him, and he hopped down onto a shadowed branch in the pokémon exercise yard. He espied the tibyss in one corner of the yard and carefully avoided her—not out of _fear_ , it was just defensive planning like anyone would have done. Below him was the newcomer, the dragoon.

Tak preened; he'd been the newcomer briefly, but he'd risen rapidly after evolving. The ursaring was lazy and seemed to lack appetite for battle, the svarog he'd defeated, and the dragoon was too new. Only Maia stood in his way, and then he'd have the authority to direct Matthew like she did.

Tak sneered at the dragoon and its cringing self-conscious manner. Apparently they usually had gray fur covering their skin, and this one was embarrassed to lack it. It _was_ embarrassing, he had to admit, to be smooth-skinned like a human being: they were appallingly ugly, but the naked dragoon was striped with bright, eye-catching color.

Tak hopped down to the ground behind Sai, noiselessly, and he pecked at one of the spines on the end of his tail, just to see if it would come off. He hopped backward right after, pre-emptively, but the dragoon didn't move. Tak clicked his beak and did it again. Gods, these people were slow—

Sai's tail cinched like a rope around the honchkrow's wings, and as Tak squawked he turned to look at him with mild interest.

"Let _go,_ addle-jawed slimegut!" Tak screeched. "I'll eat your eyes!"

"Not before I pull out half your feathers, birdie," Sai said.

"A few feathers can't fix what's wrong with you, dullmind."

The dragoon bared its teeth like a human, not a threat but as an expression of amusement. Well, maybe both.

"Big words coming from the bottom of the flock. No?"

"No!" Tak squawked back. "You're below _me_ , newcomer."

"Only because you left your old troop behind and joined a group with less competition. I see you, birdie. I know what you're like." The dragoon loosened his tail, and Tak shot up into the tree with a hiss. "I know what I'm like," he added, spreading his clawed hands.

"I'm at the top, ratpiss! You can't catch me."

"You wouldn't have joined a human if you were at the top," Sai said, conversational. He picked a blade of grass and chewed on it. "You would have ruled and got fat and strong and old if you were. Out there." He flicked away the grass. "I heard you can get strong with a human. Stronger than any free person. So strong you don't go back. I wonder what exactly they do to you so that you don't go back."

"They _don't_ do anything," Tak complained suddenly. "I thought there would be devils and evil powers! I thought they drank blood and left eggs on high hillsides for the dead! But they just battle and give each other _encouragement_ ," he said, disgusted.

"Ha. Devilish. Why don'tcha leave, then?" Sai asked.

"Well. They _are_ strong," Tak admitted. He shivered, thinking of the monsters they'd narrowly avoided in the desert. "Ain't the time to be a loner, that's for sure."

"And thus, here I am," the dragoon said, sighing. "I haven't got anything. They threw me out."

"Fuck 'em. Who cares? My flock was a bunch of idiots, too busy being bullies or whining about being bullied. They had no idea about the opportunities in a human city."

"Oh yeah? Can you show me? You seem smart."

Tak puffed out his chest feathers. "Uh, _yeah_ , baldy. Stick with me and I'll show you a couple tricks."

He started to preen the feathers the dragoon had mussed and thought about his _next_ trainer, who would be taller and better-dressed in more lovely colors. _Every_ color.

x.x.x.x.x

Tarahn sat with Moriko until she fell asleep, and then he phased out of the trainer dorm into the cool night. He flicked his tail in greeting to Liona and Sylvia by the pool as he scanned the yard, and then trotted over casually when he saw Maia.

He flopped down beside her, readying his great new joke about the timbark and a parked car.

Maia's huge webbed paw slapped down on his, and her claws shot out. "Don't."

Electricity sparked at his cheeks, inadvertent. "What?" he squeaked.

"I told you," Maia said quietly. "I told everyone. Don't hurt Matt."

The raigar willed his frightened fur to go back down and huffed when it didn't. "No one's gonna hurt him!"

"Then why did Moriko approach him with you at her side, looking for a fight?"

"Because... because we didn't know what _he_ was going to do. He had you and Sai and Daz out. Matt is bigger than Moriko," Tarahn said. He tried to imagine how humans would battle but wasn't really sure. They could only swipe at each other and struggle.

"That's stupid," the tibyss said. "He can't fight. You know."

"No? I don't?"

"You were there. That _person_ explained."

"No?"

Maia growled, a basso rumble deep in her chest. "He can't fight. He can't go into danger. He gets scared. He remembers... things. He can't fight Moriko."

"Okay. I mean, I know that _now_."

Maia's tail lashed once, and then she relaxed, allowing this. "Well, good. Don't."

"Okay, but—"

"What?" Maia flipped the wood she was playing with, slapping it on the sidewalk with a clatter.

"Well... He needs to say. It was making things dangerous, that he didn't tell us. See? I won't hurt Matt. But those... things came to hurt him. And they could have hurt Moriko."

"That is _not_ his fault," Maia answered sharply.

"I know," Tarahn said. He gave his head a shake to hear the bells, comforting. "I'll protect Matt too, Maia. But _you_ have to protect Moriko. We need to know all the stuff or we can't."

Maia's eyes glowed in the dim light, and her claws shredded the scrap wood ominously, but she didn't growl.

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! Pictures of the Gaiien gym badges and the first two gym leaders are up on my tumblr/deviantart, **gaiienpokedex**.


	20. Reversal

**Changelog:** Chapter 30 of Gods and Demons. Minor edits for flow and continuity.

x.x.x.x.x

Chapter 18  


 _Ironhelm_ _ _/ that is a goddamn Rayquaza_ / Reversal_

— _August 4th-5th, 128 CR_

Moriko woke several times in the night, dreaming of caves and graveyards and demon pokémon lurking at the edge of awareness, and then of ancient pokémon, giants that brought firestorms and tsunamis, and she forced herself awake for good.

She found herself in the pokémon center cafeteria, unrefreshed and drowsy despite clean clothes and a shower, and she picked at tofu and powdery scrambled eggs. Tarahn joined her, and she spread a bit of margarine onto his nose; he gave a big-cat groan, his purple tongue flashing out to lick it off.

"Hey! Mor!"

It was Russell. Moriko choked on her tea.

"Yikes, I need a better welcome than that," he said cheerfully, dropping down on the bench and helping himself to her toast. "Dry! The hospital breakfast was better than this."

"You had gaping wounds yesterday!" she sputtered. "What are you doing here?"

Russ shrugged. "Nice to see you too. The tissue treatments started working last night and I feel great. The doctor said I could go, but not to leave town for a couple days. Fair enough, I guess. Hey, Tarahn," he said, as the raigar started hitting him with his tail amid a clangor of bells.

"Scratch my butt. Scratch it," Tarahn commanded, and Russ obliged, setting him to furious purring.

Russ certainly looked much better: he was animated and a better color, a stark contrast to the ashy, waxen appearance of his infes—of his illness.

"Russ… how are you feeling?"

He shook his head. "I don't—it's fine now. Nothing's different. I made appointments at the gym for today."

"Oh! Great! Thanks for… doing that without asking…"

Russ pulled up the internet app on his pokédex, tabs for battle strategy popping up as he pulled up compiled information on Gaiien's gym leaders and elite four. "Check it out: Lord Ironhelm, steel-type specialist. It looks like he has pretty predictable pokémon: steelix, magnezone, dusquill, kodiaxe—"

"Oh nice, Russ—uh, listen, do you remember the woman who helped us when you were injured? She's trying to—Matt is… Matt was acting weird because—"

"Mor, I don't want to hear that stuff."

Her voice died at the interruption.

Russell scrolled through his pokédex, not looking at her. "I just got better, don't tell me that boring stuff, all right?"

Tarahn looked between them, his head on one side.

"Ah. Sorry," she managed to say.

"No problem," he said lightly. "So: Lord Ironhelm, real name Galen Richter, a former professional trainer from Kalos—"

Excited, he scrolled through stat sheets on the pokémon the gym leader commonly used, with candid fan photos from various battles. Kodiaxe was a favorite; he had at least three in rotation as well as a succession of soldant, the steel-type variant of the reginant ant pokémon line. There were reviews and comments from trainers who had fought him—or claimed to, you never knew with some of these sites.

Moriko read one account of a battle and then tried to forget it, wary of false information. "I kind of feel like this is cheating," she said.

"Look, we already have to waste time so _you_ "—Moriko flinched—"can go back to Porphyry to rechallenge whatshername. The more information we have, the better position we're in to beat him. Gym leaders are on their home turf with well-trained pokémon. What?"

"You're kinda mean today, Russ," she heard herself saying.

Shadows of thoughts passed over Russell's face and her stomach dropped. Why had she said that? He'd just come out of the hospital—

But finally he grinned and tapped her shoulder playfully. "It's been a long week, right? Now, steel is a very defensive type so we really want to play up type advantages—"

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko's head whirled with the considerations for their battle as they headed over for their appointment. The gym was on the inland side of Port Brac, a recreation of a second-crossing Kalosian castle on top of an artificial hill. Old warbuildings of the sort would have had a castellan bonded to a guardian pokémon of a ground- or rock-type affinity, who would strengthen the building and wield its stones as weapons against invaders. A month ago she might have felt terribly excited to explore the gym, but now it served as an ugly reminder of warfare and fatal battles.

She thought of the gyms at Verdure and Porphyry, even Russet, and how those battles had exploded into violence, the gym leaders unconcerned and the referees not intervening or dithering uselessly, and her skin crawled with anxiety.

Battles had been—she'd been—she remembered time snatched here and there for street battles or training at the dojo, and she'd won more often than not, and that feeling of power and competence had kept her going in the midst of the whirlwind of suck that school had always been. When everything was terrible, Tarahn had been there, Rufus had been there, and in the glow of lightning or fire she could pretend that she could be more than she was.

And all Moriko could think about now was what could go wrong, who would have to be hastily recalled to dissolve profound injury, the gleeful malice of the gym leader—Belladonna's face flashed through her mind, and fury and sick dread rolled along after the memory—

She took a deep breath and followed along in Matt and Russ's wake, the two of them chatting easily about battle plans and scenarios.

 _Just stay alert_ , she thought. _Recall them fast if it goes wrong_. Behind her Vleridin trotted along, unconcerned; she didn't plan to use the mooskeg for this battle, since she didn't have an advantage against steel.

Inside, the gym was comfortably furnished, with modern amenities like air conditioning and elevators, and the attendant checked them in and directed them to the now-familiar waiting room before the arena. After a few minutes, they were escorted in.

The arena was circular in the traditional style, although the battle floor dropped into a substrate-filled depression for the benefit of ground-type moves. There were a few people in the stands, heads bowed and looking at their pokédexes or other mobile devices. A group of kids with a mawile and a magneton were probably the gym leader's students.

Lord Ironhelm was at his end of the arena; he was pale-skinned and gray-haired, an older middle-aged man with metallic leg prostheses.

"Welcome to Castle Brac," Ironhelm said over the sound system, "and welcome to the three challengers. We'll be doing double battles today. Trainer Russell, you're up first."

Russ darted forward to take his place opposite the gym leader.

Moriko and Matt sat near to the students, while Vleridin remained close to the arena for a better view. Moriko tossed Thanasanian's pokéball to her side; the oberant looked around the gym, curious, and asked for explanations about the various items of monitoring equipment set up around the arena.

The students looked at the oberant and commented admiringly, the mawile's sagittal mouth swinging to face them, but shortly they were watching the arena again as the shielding powered up for the imminent battle.

"Oh shit," Matt said. "He has a Silph Eyedex."

Moriko squinted at Ironhelm; he was wearing some kind of eyepiece. "What is it?"

"You didn't hear about it? It's a heads-up display that will display advanced pokédex data over the battle. They're banned from tournaments."

Moriko whistled. A constant feed of pokédex data—advanced data?—without looking away from a battle would be a big advantage—and harder to use moves that relied on feints or trickery, if the software could keep up.

At the referee's signal, four capture balls went out, energy flashing: Russ's selections were Conall the dirfox and Sauza the geysard, facing a now-familiar soldant and a dusquill, a porcupine-like pokémon with black- and white-striped quills.

 _Dusquill, the spike pokémon. A steel- and ground-type, it evolves from duspine near level 28. Its quills are a potent defense. They have fine, serrated edges that make them difficult to remove._

"Oh! That soldant is from Doronora hive," Thana whispered. "They do live closer to the human city. How useful, to train with an experienced human leader."

Russ had a renewed vigor after recovering from his injury, and it seemed to transfer to his pokémon: Conall had his tail up and looked confident for once, while Sauza looked relaxed rather than totally slothful.

The referee's hand dropped and the geysard shot forward, spitting embers at the soldant, but it turned the attack aside harmlessly on a protect shield. A reflect shimmered around Sauza and Conall as the sandy floor of the area swirled and then whipped into a sandstorm.

The barrier hummed on, protecting the stands and the trainer cages. Inset images flickered on the shield surface as energy-detecting cameras turned on, the automated attackdex helpfully naming the techniques in play for the audience. The students murmured to each other.

Conall followed up with sand tomb, dropping the soldant and dusquill into a pit. It was hard to see in the sandstorm, but their cursors on the shield dropped, tracking smoothly downward and then disappearing as they both dug into the sand to set up underground attacks.

Sauza spat out long clots of dark oil that ignited on contact with air, a firefield attack that shone through the whirling grit. His opponents burst out of the ground and dealt the geysard a couple of hard blows in spite of the reflect shield, and left him limping away with a collection of the dusquill's needles piercing his red hide.

Conall hit them with a confuse ray as they emerged—thank the battle system for that information, that technique had a subtle effect that was invisible in the sandstorm—and now they were staggering around drunkenly, swiping at nothing and recoiling from the firefield patches.

They could hear Ironhelm's bellowing. "Lance! Use needle barrage! Lance! Hista! Get it together!"

Sauza lurched forward and hit the soldant with a flamethrower—ooh, its health plummeted on the battle screen. Conall used sand whip on the dusquill, the rope of the attack buffeting it with quick successive hits. It shook its head and rallied, trying a magnitude attack that rippled through the substrate and pelted the geysard and dirfox with earth.

The sandstorm failed as the dusquill weakened, and the soldant tried a sand whip of its own.

"Flamethrower again!"

Sauza caught the sand whip across the face and was heaving on his belly in the sand, but managed to sear the soldant with a glob of smoky fire. They were both glittering with the faint; Sauza darted back to his pokéball while the soldant held on for a second or two longer—good discipline, good technique for scored matches.

Ironhelm recalled it without looking, watching the remaining pokémon. "Steamroller, Lance!"

The dusquill leapt into the air and spun, glowing yellow-green, and hit the ground to roll after the dirfox, who ran full-tilt for the other side of the area.

"Double team, Conall!"

"Follow the east copy, Lance!"

Moriko whistled. Confident—was that the Eyedex?

Matt snapped his fingers. "Cheating—oh, watch—"

The dusquill followed the real Conall, but it was hard to steer while rolling, and the dirfox was leading it through the firefield. Burning oil flew as the steamroller attack churned up the substrate and stuck to the dusquill. It slowed, the glow of the attack fading, and it finally dove under the surface to extinguish the fires.

"Sand wave!"

The dirfox's eyes glowed, and a huge ripple went through the arena sand. It flung the dusquill out and away, and it came to rest at Ironhelm's feet.

The gym leader nodded and recalled it.

"The match goes to trainer Russell!"

"So that's how the gym battle works," Moriko said to Thana, "we fight the leader and we get a badge as a token if we win, and we can go on to the next one. When you have eight you can fight in the league tournament in the fall."

"This building is quite pleasing," Thana said. "There is good earth and stone in it—but too much steel for my liking. That man is made of metal as well—humans don't have types, do they?"

Moriko shook her head. "He has a prosthesis—he lost his legs somehow."

"A dreadful injury, but it wasn't healed at a pokémon center?"

Matt laughed beside them. "That kind of healing doesn't work on humans. You can regrow a limb but it takes a long time. It might not have been available when he was injured, or it didn't take."

Russ rejoined them proudly, and Matt was the next up. The arena system repaired the battle floor, redistributing the sand.

"Russ! That was great," Moriko said. They tapped fists.

"Thanks! Sauza is a little banged up, but the match was fine. I was wondering, though—Ironhelm knew immediately which clone was Conall. _I_ can't tell which one is the real one, so how—?"

"Matt says that he has a Silph Eyedex, it can recognize moves that rely on trickery."

"What? That's not fair," Russ said, looking annoyed. "What the fuck," he muttered.

Moriko raised her eyebrows. "Hey, no problem, it was to your advantage—the dusquill ate a bunch of fire, chasing him."

"Oh yeah, definitely," Russ said absently, watching the gym leader.

In the arena, Matt made his selections: Maia and Sai, the dragoon. Sai looked around uncertainly and a couple of people laughed; he didn't match the generic dragoon portrait the battle system threw up, lacking its shaggy gray fur.

"Is that a shiny?" one of Ironhelm's students muttered.

Maia stood poised, her fins raised. They faced a burnox and an acupeix, a lionfish-like pokémon covered in sharp spines. It levitated, floating above the sand in the dry arena.

 _Burnox, the fire ox pokémon. A fire- and steel-type, it evolves from volcalf near level 16 and to oxhaust near level 36. It uses its high vitality to charge up powerful physical attacks. They were used to help smelt steel before the modern era._

 _Acupeix, the needle pokémon. A water- and steel-type, it evolves to carchardax with age or with a deep sea tooth artifact. Its bright coloration, spines, and high defensive ability all say "don't touch me!"_

"Trainers ready? Begin!"

Sai immediately ran forward, eager to put his fighting-type attacks to use. He howled after striking the acupeix, leaping away and shaking his stuck paws.

Ironhelm's students giggled.

"Idiot," Russ said quietly.

Maia surrounded herself in an aqua ring and sidestepped the burnox's flame charge, following up with a bubblebeam that hit it squarely, the orbs bursting with gunshot pops on the bull pokémon's armor.

Sai charged again, aiming for the burnox. It countered, slamming the dragoon right into Maia. The fighting-type energy made her stagger, and she snarled at Sai; he snarled back, exposing his wicked canine teeth.

Moriko winced as the students laughed at Matt, but he seemed pretty calm and asked the referee for a timeout.

"Saints, double battles are always a rollercoaster," one of the students said, groaning.

"You aren't happy the leader is winning?" Moriko asked.

She immediately regretted saying anything as the students flicked her over-the-shoulder glances, but one of the girls said, "Oh yeah, I mean, we're here to learn and we've seen Galen fight a million times. I want to see what the challengers do, right?"

"Are timeouts allowed in tournaments?" the mawile chirped. "I've never seen this on TV."

"Depends on the tournament," said one of the students, "but he'd have been finished at the Kanto Classic. A bad start can screw up your whole match."

"He wouldn't be using such a green pokémon if he was at a tournament, though."

"You'd be surprised—"

The pokémon approached the edge of the arena, and Matt knelt to speak to them quietly. Sai looked disheartened; Maia said something to him, her tail lashing, and the dragoon sulked further. Matt kept talking, and Sai seemed to perk up a little more. Maia's ruff settled down.

"Just work together," Russ said impatiently, his fingers drumming on his knees. "It's _easy._ "

Time up, the referee called them back to battle.

And Sai just lurched in to attack the burnox again—

Russ actually yelled. " _Seriously_ —"

—but Maia got there first with bubblebeam, ruining the counter.

"Better!" one of the students called, clapping.

Sai feinted, switching to a dragonbreath attack, but the teal flames didn't do much to the bull pokémon. The acupeix scrambled to act and fired a barrage of icicle spears at the dragoon, who scrabbled away inexpertly as chunks of ice flew.

The burnox headed for Sai with another flame charge, and he just barely got out of the way while Maia hit it with a hydro pump. The burnox staggered; it roared a flamethrower that didn't quite come together, the flames half-dissipating. Maia pushed it back with a bubblebeam, the attacks dueling briefly like in the movies.

There was a rumble as the acupeix summoned a swell of water, and Sai, mesmerized by the beam attacks, reacted too late and was knocked off his feet by the surge. The burnox held on for a moment before throwing itself away from Maia, and then charging forward and hitting the dragoon with a punishing body slam attack.

As they sprang apart the burnox stumbled, weakening in the rising water, but Sai was well out of the game. Matt recalled him, and Ironhelm held up the burnox's pokéball a heartbeat later.

The water was really coming into the arena, summoned from some reservoir beneath. The acupeix cruised around its edge, a V-shaped wake behind it and its dorsal fins jutting out of the water. It was far more in its element now, but so was Maia: she rose up on a surf swell, her spines up and intimidating.

"The type matchup isn't great," Russ commented. "The steel-type might win by attrition."

The tibyss's aqua ring still glittered in the light, orbiting her body.

"Get it, Maia," was all Matt said.

Maia roared, the luminescent patches on her body glowing, and the flooded arena began churning with a whirlpool attack. The acupeix levitated again, rising out of it, just in time to get hit with a huge hydro pump and tumble across the foaming surface of the water.

Maia stood on her hind legs, flexing her paws, and a huge swell of water gathered behind her and headed for the lionfish pokémon like a wall. It leapt forward, trying to cut through the wave, but Maia's body glowed with a painful brightness and the wave crested violently, crashing the acupeix up against the energy shield.

The acupeix recovered, spines flying off its back in a needle barrage, and Maia threw up another wave to slow and deflect them. The tibyss roared again and slammed the acupeix down with another surf attack, smaller waves tumbling and lashing through the pool. It rose out of the water but splashed back down, its gills working in silent gasps.

Ironhelm recalled the acupeix. "That will do," he declared. "Congratulations."

Maia relaxed, her spines falling flat on her back. She looked small, suddenly, letting herself sink into the water as it drained away.

Russ pointed at Maia's health bar, which was also flagging. "Nice of him," he said. "That could have gone either way. She might have tired herself out, in fact."

"Galen gets bored easily," one of the students said over his shoulder. "And he's… chivalrous," he added, gesturing around at the gym with its replica castle conceit and warbanners on the walls.

"Chivalrous with that illegal Eyedex?" Russ retorted.

The students laughed nervously. "Illegal in _tournaments_ ," one said, a little defensive.

"Oh man, we'd have been in the splash zone without the shield," another said.

"Imagine being down there with the attacks like in the old days."

Matt crouched at the side of the arena and threw his arms around Maia's neck as the shield came down; they could hear her growl from the stands, but her fins perked up a fraction. Matt recalled her and rejoined them.

"Whew!" Matt said. "That was a little rough."

"Not bad," Russ said. "You might have used your svarog for that one instead of Sai, she could attack indirectly—"

Moriko recalled Thana and left them to talk. The coaching from Russ was a little ungracious, but he was weird and voluble today.

"Interesting matches so far?" Moriko asked Vleridin as she passed.

"Well enough," the mooskeg said. "The tibyss has some skill," she added grudgingly.

Moriko tried not to grin and kept going. She took her place in the challenger's circle; Ironhelm was passing the pokéballs he'd used to an aide. He faced her and raised an ultra ball and a great ball in his hands, and she held up Liona and Rufus' pokéballs.

"Choose your pokémon!"

They threw down the pokéballs simultaneously, good battle etiquette. Ironhelm's picks were a kodiaxe, tall and armored and holding its signature hatchets, and a drillgon, dragoon's evolved form, its colored skin patches and steel armor bright against its white fur and black hide.

 _Kodiaxe, the polar pokémon. An ice- and steel-type, it evolves from falcub near level 30, and to ursabre near level 55. It is protected from extremes in temperature by a thick layer of fat. They train daily to become masters of weaponry._

 _Drillgon, the drill pokémon. A dragon- and steel-type, it evolves from dragoon near level 40. It protects its troop with powerful attacks and excavates small caves for them to shelter in._

Damn—thick fat was an ability that reduced fire-type damage; better stick with fighting-type attacks for that one.

"Trainers ready? Begin!"

"Flying press, Liona! Get 'em, Rufus!"

The nigriff launched into the air and aimed for the kodiaxe in a graceful arc. The bear pokémon raised its hatchets, firing off ice shards at her, but was stopped short by a punishing shoulder-first flame charge from Rufus. He drove it backward, its claws dragging through the arena floor, and Liona broke off, aiming gust attacks at it from range.

"You'll hit Rufus! Get the other one!"

Shortly the kodiaxe and Rufus were grappling, the bear pokémon smashing its axes against the oxhaust's armor with resounding clangs. Rufus struggled and breathed a flamethrower into its chest and neck at close range, and followed up with a sharp brick break technique. That drew a roar of pain from the kodiaxe and left it scrabbling backward on all fours—

—just in time for the drillgon to hit Rufus with an absolutely brutal attack. It sent him flying and he hit the ground hard, the soaked arena substrate flying up in clods around him as he skidded to a stop. He groaned, his arms shaking as he levered himself upwards.

 _Bone club_ —Moriko could see the spectral bone fading in the curve of the drillgon's prehensile tail. _Gods all_ —

Ironhelm folded his arms, nodding silently.

The drillgon and the kodiaxe regrouped; the latter was worse off and the drillgon took the forward position, but the kodiaxe had its hatchets up and ready again.

"Flying press!"

Liona circled again and dove toward the drillgon, driving it into the ground with her forepaws, only to meet a force palm attack at the same instant. The nigriff went flying in a cloud of feathers, and she tumbled in the air, wings working as she tried to right herself.

 _Hoooooo boy._ Moriko could see their health bars out of the corner of her eye, no need for fancy equipment, because everything was red and yellow on the pokédex screen.

Her legs shook, and she grit her teeth. _I've lost before,_ she thought. _Keep it together. No one's dead._

The drillgon raised its arms and screeched, its mouth full of jagged fangs. Liona and Rufus stumped toward each other, battered, Liona's wings fluttering out of concert. The kodiaxe had one more turn left in it, probably, but it could still hit hard.

The oxhaust and nigriff technique lists refused to appear in her mind—come on, she could turn this around!—could Rufus manage a double kick? What else could Liona do—

"Bone club, Marini," said Ironhelm.

The drillgon rushed Rufus, drills raised and spinning. Its tail snapped around, clutching the glowing shape of a dinosaur's thighbone. The oxhaust raised his arm guards, preparing to take the attack—

—Moriko saw a nigriff tentatively showing off her attacks to a new trainer—

"Revenge, Liona!"

—a clang from the spectral bone; smoke surged from Rufus' pipes, and he glittered as he fainted—

—Liona headbutted the drillgon, red-brown fighting-type energy exploding outward and sending it flying into the kodiaxe. They tumbled to an undignified stop; the drillgon was scintillating, dissolving into lightmotes, and the kodiaxe sprawled, motionless.

Ironhelm pursed his lips; he touched the Eyedex's arm briefly, then recalled both of his pokémon.

"I've seen enough," the gym leader said. "Thank you for the battle."

The referee's flags whipped. "The match goes to trainer Moriko!"

And that was it, the battle was over and she'd won and no one had nearly died and the gym leader was normal and gracious—

Moriko swayed, wishing the trainer's circle had a railing that she could grab on to, but her vision cleared as the shield came down and Liona approached her shyly, limping.

"Was that okay?"

"Better than okay!" Moriko said, and scratched the nigriff under the chin. "How are you feeling?"

"I thought the drillgon punched me so hard my eyeballs flew out, but it was just the world spinning."

"You've earned a big rest! You won with that revenge attack, that was so great." Moriko grinned. "One of the first attacks I saw you use."

Liona whistled. "I'm shredded, there was so much energy to turn back. She hit him so hard."

"Come on, then, we'll get you healed up and go down to the beach, or wherever you like."

Russ and Matt walked up to her as she recalled Liona; they congratulated her, and _Russ_ started critiquing her battle.

"Nice one, but you should have been using revenge way earlier. It's a staple of double battles—"

Moriko smiled at him politely. _Come on, dude, really_ —

"Trainers," Lord Ironhelm said. "Would you come with me?"

Moriko started and faced the gym leader. He was taller than Russ, long-featured and pale. The Eyedex looked rougher up close, with wires coming off of it and running under his clothes onto metallic contacts set into his arms. She struggled not to stare and make him feel self-conscious. It was a conspicuous bit of body modification, but between them and the leg prostheses he'd likely been in a horrifying accident.

"Is this for our badges?" Matt asked.

Ironhelm shook his head. The Eyedex gave him a dreamy, unfocused look. "My daughter and her friends asked to speak with you three."

The gym leader led them to the back of the arena. Vleridin looked over the narrow door and corridor and shook her head with its broad antlers, and she turned to energy in a blink of light and flew behind Moriko's collarbone.

 _Um_ —

 _Please, I shan't be left out due to a trick of human architecture._

Moriko blinked; the others were watching her.

"Everything all right?" Ironhelm asked.

"Yes. Sorry to interrupt."

They followed him through the doorway. Here the stone of the castle was less dressed up, with long mats to protect the floor. He walked quickly, the servos in his legs working, and Moriko felt faintly uneasy, like they were being spirited away to some isolated location.

"Where are we going?" Moriko asked.

Ironhelm blew out his breath. "The… I believe it is a matter related to the Black Queen, if you are familiar with such a person."

Matt's posture immediately grew stiff and defensive, but he kept walking. "Is she here?" he asked, just barely keeping his voice normal.

The gym leader shook his head. "A message for you, from some of her… associates." He sighed.

Shortly they came to a nicer area of the castle, a sitting room with wide windows showing a treed and manicured garden behind the building. There was a pond with a fountain at the center with flotillas of ducks and black swans arranged around it, as well as the pokémon ducklett and swanna gazing on serenely. The sitting room's floor was hardwood with unevenness that suggested real age, and there were old clan banners and warriors' nabori hung on the walls, interspersed with second-crossing-era steel-cult swords and naginata. They were probably mostly replicas, but here and there the fabric or metal betrayed actual use.

There was a long table at the center of the hall, and circles of armchairs at the corners. Potted plants and cabinets were arranged around the room. On a table spread with bright white hotel tablecloths was a tea service, and a tall stand covered in desserts: muffins and petits-fours, lemon bars, shortbread and scones, and candied fruit and nuts.

"My daughter, Axel, and her friends," Lord Ironhelm said.

Moriko managed to tear her eyes away from the teacakes and look: he was introducing a tall, pale woman and another, shorter and darker, and beside them was an extraordinarily tall and thin man whose yellow eyes stood out like beacons in his olive-toned face.

"I'm Axel," said the pale woman, approaching them and shaking hands. She was very pretty, with bright yellow and pink genehan hair, and a strong nose that nevertheless suited her. "The Black Queen asked us to speak with you."

"Ciaran," said the other woman. "I heard you all met the Gray Prince and the Wandering Fire?" she said, without preamble. She had black hair with a green streak that was probably dyed rather than a genehan, and was dressed more casually, in worn but clean traveling clothes.

"Is that what they're called?" Matt said, sarcastic, but he withered under unamused looks from the two of them.

"We have stuff to do too," Axel said tartly. "We'll keep this short. Do you want tea?"

There was a tense silence as they took white china cups and poured for themselves. There were several fragrant flavors that had been steeped precisely without bitterness, and real cream and milk as well as sugar and lemon. Moriko poured a half cup of coffee and loaded it with cream and sugar, and managed to restrain herself and only took about eight teacakes and a scone. And some almonds. And a muffin.

They sat down on the armchairs, perched on the edge of the cushions. Moriko looked up and over the others' heads at the walls, but Matt and Russ were staring at Axel and Ciaran and the tall man over their cups. It was straight out of a period drama like Windburn Hall, and she was unsure of the etiquette but had the vague feeling that once they got through a few sips or so, business would start.

The teacakes were amazing, buttery shortbread covered in powdered sugar and variously flavored with chopped nuts or dried fruit, and she tried to eat daintily but was probably failing. Yup, huge fall of icing sugar right onto her shirt. She tried to brush it away and made it worse.

Moriko was dizzy at the wealth on display; the other gym leaders had had nice facilities, but this seemed to go beyond Hawthorn's greenhouse and Belladonna's repurposed ruins. Maybe he really was a lord of something, although the third crossing had tried to reform a lot of those types of privileges.

Russ set down his tea, breaking the silence. "So… who are you, exactly?"

"Officially?" Axel said dryly.

"Or unofficially?" the tall man added, in a soft, breathy voice. He was slumped bonelessly over a chaise-longue, like he couldn't quite remember how to sit. He looked vaguely fullblood second crossing, but the luminousness of his eyes exceeded even their distinctive appearance.

Russ watched him. "I'm not sure if I caught your name…?"

"I didn't give it."

Ciaran smirked. "This is Ray," she said. "He's one of our allies."

"Officially, we're professional trainers," Axel said. "I'm a rich girl with a bunch of money who can go to tournaments all the time, and Ciaran is my sugar baby. That's all true."

"Excuse you," Ciaran said, but without rancor; it had the air of a call-and-response.

"Where _do_ you get your money?" Matt asked, and Moriko nearly choked on her coffee. Wow, okay, if we're going to be belly-out rude here—

"Ant pokémon find all sorts of useless things when they're digging," Axel purred, and she rose and waved her pokédex at a cabinet whose display panels shifted from a convincing imitation of wood-grain to transparent, revealing huge chunks of colorful stone and crystals. "And they love to train them for rare candy and evo stones."

Moriko made encouraging noises. "Wow, is that a nearby hive—"

Matt scoffed. "Your quartz doesn't impress me, alright?—"

"Those are raw diamonds, opals, and noble metals, Matt," Axel said sweetly, "and that's just what we have on display. So we travel a lot. Sometimes to strange places. Next question."

"And you do what, exactly?" Russ asked.

"You've met the Black Queen. She has a mission to stop the Gray Prince from… cursing people. We look for people he's cursed, for signs that the Wandering Fire has been around, or the Spirit of Wrath, or the Night's Empress."

Moriko's head whirled. "Who? These are demon pokémon?"

Axel shrugged. "I'm not sure what the classifications really are, but they're powerful entities who feed off humans and powerful pokémon if they can get them. Tournaments are a great place to do that, but increasingly a great place to get caught by people like us."

"And tournaments are good to go to regularly when you have a bunch of high-level pokémon. Keeps 'em happy." Ciaran's eyes flicked over to Ray and he smiled; some private joke.

"What do you want from us? We don't have anything to report about... them. We just saw them. _She_ knows more, she was there for more than us," Matt said, impatient.

Ciaran watched him, the hardness in her look making Matt subside a little. "The Gray Prince killed one of my pokémon a few years ago. Made me like _you_. A battery. A _straw_."

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees; Moriko shuffled away to get more teacakes and to maybe watch from behind a table.

Matt's face turned blotchy, and Ciaran waved a hand at him. "Don't try to talk about it, I know how it goes. You need her to… She can't fix it, not the state you're in now, but she can make it less. Do it for yourself, if no one else. It kills you but you turn inward, protecting it, no? That's _him._ That's him talking, kiddo."

"That's _her_ talking," Matt managed to say, but he sounded tired. "So what, I go with her? I go back to Johto? I fight her battles, forever?"

Ciaran and Axel shifted; Ray watched him with a snakelike stillness.

"Until it's done, Matt," Ciaran said, finally.

There was a silence. Moriko wondered at Matt's stubbornness: there was something wrong with him, but the woman had to a way to fix it, and all that stood in the way was his petulant dislike of her? But then again... what else was he saying? That these three were beholden to her now, endlessly on call to scour tournaments for demons and their victims?

"You are feeding him," Ray whispered. "I see every soul's pulse, drawn in, drawn out. From you. From them," and he nodded at Moriko and Russ. _What?_ "You steal and are stolen from, Matthew. Go to the many-souled woman. Break the link."

Matt drew a shuddering breath and drew a hand, hard, across his eyes. "Fine. Fine! Take me to her."

x.x.x.x.x

In the end they went back to the pokécenter, the Black Queen apparently being bad at responding to texts or answering her pokédex. She'd find them, Axel said.

They got their Gear Badges from the gym on the way out, silvery circular gears with square teeth, and Moriko pinned hers to her belt beside the Pyre Badge. Two and two now, with a blank spot between them, but she thought about Porphyry and felt tired, even on the high of winning against Lord Ironhelm. Even before the demons there had been too much violence.

She thought again of going home.

Moriko checked to see if there were any messages for them at the reception desk—maybe the woman in black would leave them a note there—but there was just a note for Russell. Moriko had to listen politely to the boy there trying to sell her a tour of the haunted keys around Sere Island before she could make her exit.

She opened the message for Russ and read it, and then she took it to him in the cafeteria straightaway.

"Russ, there's a message from the hospital—you missed your appointment with the counselor—"

"I didn't go." Russ frowned. "You read my mail? Please don't."

"Oh! Sorry." Moriko passed him the note, chastened.

Russ flicked his eyes over it and then folded up the paper to put in the recycling bin. He shook his head. "Yeah, not missing anything."

"You… you should go if the doctor ordered it," she said, uncertainly. "You need to recover before we can go on." _If we go on._

"Stop it, Moriko. I only have one mom and she's in Port Littoral. I don't need it."

 _What?_ "Russ? You… that whole thing… it's good to—I don't know if you were aware of everything that was happening, that day, but—"

"Moriko." Russell whirled around, stood too close, loomed over her. "Stop. I remember it. I remember every moment, okay? I thought I was dying."

She froze in fascination. She could see him with terrible clarity, each freckle dusting pale skin, each crimson whisker emerging on the edge of his jaw, unshaven. She saw Sylvia behind him, her mouth open and wings raised, worried, and Tarahn with the fur lifting on his shoulders.

 _You_ were _dying_ , she thought.

Russell's hands opened and closed, agitated. "Thank you for getting me out. Thank you for saving me. But I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to—to relive—ugh—"

Words tumbled: "Russ I'm sorry I'm so—"

Raised hand, silencing. "It's fine! It's fine. I'm fine. I just—let's just do fun things from here, okay? No more corpses, no more injuries, no more moping and hurt feelings, okay? Let's have a good time so I can go back to school with no regrets. We traveled and we saw Gaiien and we had a good time."

"Yes," she said, hearing herself as if from far away. "Of course."

"Great. I'm going out," Russell said, and whisked out of the pokémon center into the warm night, Sylvia trotting after him.

Moriko sat down carefully; everything seemed haloed and insubstantial. She petted Tarahn absently as he came over and bumped her cheek with his.

 _He's sick. He was sick. He was sick and I shouldn't have read his messages. I'm sorry._ She tried it out in her head, what she'd say when he was back.

Matt came back to the pokémon center a couple of hours later, still damp from the ocean, Maia beside him. Russ wasn't back, and Moriko found herself telling Matt about what had happened.

"Ah," he said, as she related the story. "Well, he was… clear. At least."

"Yes."

"Are you mad at him?"

 _Yes. No._ "No, how could—I was just… surprised. He's not—I've never—"

"He's different?"

"He's… been unkind." She shook her head. "He almost died. He's raw, everything's… it's easy to hit a nerve."

"I know what it's like in the hospital," Matt said. "You spend a lot of time thinking. Too much time—or, not enough, if they drug you up. He needs… to just do stuff and be healthy, and put something between him and—" Matt's voice caught. He gestured over one shoulder.

Demons. The desert.

"Yeah," Moriko said. "I think we all need that."

x.x.x.x.x

The message came the next day, and they met the woman in black on the plateau behind Port Brac. Her traveling clothes were newly repaired, and she had a camping bag in a style out of an old movie. The black charizard loomed behind her, a sentinel motionless but for its rippling spirit flames.

"Where's Russ?" Moriko asked, gut roiling as she remembered the fight the night before; she still hadn't had a chance to speak to him and apologize.

Matt shrugged. "I saw him at breakfast. He said he'd meet us here, but it's way past."

"I don't have time," the woman said. "The pokémon can teach others. Matt needs this as soon as possible."

Matt waved Maia forward, his face a mask.

"First, become energy," said the woman. "You'll be well defended."

The tibyss inclined her head, considering. She began to glow, her outline softening until she was a floating light, globular, that bubbled and stretched toward Matt.

"What does Matthew look like?"

Maia's voice: _Gray. Wrapped._

"You have to let down your guard, Matthew," the woman in black said.

Matt exhaled and sat on the dirt; he started a few breaths of a mindfulness exercise. Maia's blue glow wove around him, trembling.

 _Ah_ , Vleridin said. _She can't get through. Too much gray._

 _How can you tell_? Moriko sent.

 _Let me—I'll come up a little—_

Moriko felt a strand of Vleridin's energy rise, and suddenly the scene was covered in a tracery of glowing lines. The bare earth glittered here and there, like someone had shattered a mirror, while the scrubby grass seemed to be littered with strands of tinsel. Maia was water, burningly cold and pure, the sunlight striking and lancing off the blue glow. Matt—

Matt looked like a corpse, like a fly caught in a web, nothing left but brittle exoskeleton slowly turning to dust. Gray, sickly fibers overlaid him, choking him, and stretched out to steal the glow from the world nearby.

 _Do you see this all the time?_

 _More and less, more if I focus._

The woman in black…

If Maia was a lamp, the woman was a bonfire. She roiled with color, purple and blue and red and gold flashing through her body; smoky, insubstantial wings and tails formed behind her and then faded. She hurt to look at. Moriko felt Vleridin's disgust.

 _What is she, Vleridin?_

… _Something old_ , was all she said.

The woman's arm was outstretched as she clutched at something—

It was a strand of gray, there and not-there, reaching out of Matthew's heart away into infinity, and the woman's gaze followed it, jaw and fingers flexing as it eluded her.

"I'm going to come closer, Matthew," the woman said, and as she approached the fibers around him shivered.

Matt grew paler beneath the swirling energies.

"Hold, Matthew, we need only the smallest space—"

Gold light spilled out from the woman's hand, swirling around the heart-fiber, and the gray surged out toward her as Matt gasped.

And suddenly the webs exploded outward, and Matt hung in the air, wreathed in blue.

The woman in black held something that writhed, and she looked east, hungrily. "There," she said, her voice lowering and then rumbling. "A relatively simple procedure. Be well, Matthew."

There was a clap of inrushing air, and the black charizard winged away, leaving them.

Moriko watched her go with some disdain. The gray fiber must be connected to the gray demon, and she wondered if the woman would have helped Matt if it didn't also help her.

"Wonder if we'll see _her_ again—oof!"

Matt hugged her, quite unexpectedly. She patted his shoulder, unsure, but when he drew back he actually looked—happy, not darkly amused or guarded, for once. And Maia shone in him, a silvery blue light that crackled at his fingertips and glittered in his eyes.

"I need a swim," he said, Maia's energy rippling.

Moriko stared. "I—do you—do you need a flying pokémon?"

"No, no, I'll walk. See you back at the center." Matt trotted down the path, nearly skipping down the staircase despite the slope.

Moriko watched him go, not really sure what was real anymore.

She headed back to town, not rushing. Cafes were starting to look busy as it got closer to midday; she hoped someone would turn up for a battle, but she just saw junior trainers with their pets and tourists taking pictures of the sea on the heights.

At the pokémon center, she found Russell outside being spoken to by two rangers. She sped up when she saw him and ran in when she saw his black eye; he was holding tissues to his bleeding nose. Sylvia was nearby, whining and anxious.

"Russ! Are you okay? What happened?"

"Where were _you_?" he demanded.

"Russ—we—"

"This your friend?" one of the rangers said, eyeing her.

Russell nodded. "We're traveling, doing the gym circuit," he said, muffled.

The other ranger drew Moriko away. "Does he do this often?"

"Do what?"

"Drink too much? Get into fights?"

Moriko goggled at her. "Is this a joke?"

"I'm guessing that's a 'no'," the ranger said, swiping something onto her tablet. "You guys are doing the pokémon trainer thing? Sometimes kids get a little wild away from home—"

"I've never—Russell has _never_ even pushed someone, let alone—he got in a _fight_? With punches?"

The ranger was trying not to smile at her. "Your friend was involved in an altercation at a somewhat seedy establishment. He's the worse off, and a lawyer could make a case for his actions being defensive, so we're probably just going to give him a warning. However, as a member of the community I'm concerned about him—nice kid, no record—going down an ugly path, so please try to look out for him. Is he doing okay? Something happen at home?"

"He… got hurt, while we were traveling. He just got out of the hospital. He's been a little weird."

"What did they give him? I hurt my back on a mission last year and I thought I was a potted plant until the doc reduced the dosage. Keep an eye on him, and I'm sure he'll be more normal in a couple days."

Moriko nodded, her head spinning. The ranger transferred her contact information to Moriko's pokédex.

They rejoined Russ and the other ranger, who seemed to be finishing up giving him hell.

"Run or settle it with a nice, safe pokémon battle in the future, alright? You don't want a citation for brawling on your record. And your doctor is going to yell at you for drinking while taking telexone, you complete idiot."

Russ looked like he wanted to argue further—possibly what had gotten him into the mess in the first place—but he looked tired and pale as well, and was agreeing more or less meekly.

Shortly the rangers had departed, and Russ was left standing with a wad of bloody tissues and a self-pitying air. He nearly fell over when Sylvia rushed into him to lick his face. She backed off, pressing herself to the ground in an agony of conflicting desires.

"You're hurt, you're hurt," the borfang whined.

"I'm fine," Russ said. "C'mon back in the ball now, right?"

Sylvia looked not at all ready to go back in her pokéball, with her wings mantling and her thorns all bristling, but she did anyway.

"Russ—"

"So where were you?" he said, rounding on her.

She stared at him. "Helping Matt, like we agreed, and not somewhere by the docks getting fucked up at eleven in the morning?"

Russell snapped his fingers. "Right, that thing. Well, whatever—sounds like you figured it out. What time are we going to Sere Island tomorrow?"

"We're not going to Sere Island tomorrow, the pokémon need to rest and you do too by the look of it."

"Don't lecture me, I just got done enough of that—"

"Stop it!" she spat. "I have never seen you like this, mean and ornery for two days—"

"Well I've never had my body cut open by an evil fucking pokémon in my entire life—"

"I'm sorry, Russ! I'm sorry that happened but you don't get act like this! Maybe you need to be back in the hospital—"

He laughed. "Typical. You'll snitch on me, throw me under the bus at the first sign of trouble, when shit isn't even my fault. Some friends, eh?"

That stung. That really fucking stung, even if it made no sense.

She covered her eyes, tired suddenly. "Russ, what even happened?"

"Some awful girl—Pippi Longstocking on anabolic steroids and a big chip on her shoulder, you should have seen this—threw a punch and I hit back and all of a sudden a couple of fighting-type pokémon are dragging us apart and the rangers are called." He snorted, blood spraying from his nose.

"Huh. Well, it sounds like you lucked out with just the warning—"

"Yeah, I'm super lucky getting clocked in the face for nothing," Russ snapped.

She took a deep breath, biting down on the anger. "….Russ, you've been acting really goddamn weird. Let's take a couple days to rest up, okay? You're not yourself."

" _You're_ not yourself," Russ muttered, but he accepted being led to the pokécenter dorm. "I had _one_ drink!" he protested.

"Yeah, on painkillers, you entire ass."

"…I knew that." He weaved. "You're a good friend, Mor, a good good friend."

"Are you gonna barf?"

"Extremely soon."

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko left Russ in his cot with Sylvia watching him. She headed to the laundry room in a spare shirt to put their clothes through the wash.

She found Matt in the pokécenter lounge, and he smiled and failed to make fun of her, which felt weird. Maia was in her physical form again, but beside Matt rather than encircling him as tight as a tiger with a single cub. He'd been crying; Moriko did a double-take and made to leave.

"Wait! Sorry," he said, dabbing at his eyes. "This keeps happening. A great—relief, to, to be able to think clearly again."

"Don't worry about it," she said, feeling awkward. She offered a hand to Maia, who rubbed her cheek on it.

"I… It's strange, to be able to leave a building without fear, to walk along the beach, without"—he drew a shuddery breath. "It's strange to talk about it, without my breath freezing, without panic taking me. To be able to say—I was cursed. By a demon." He exhaled; Maia whuffed and nosed him protectively.

Moriko watched him. "You can actually talk about it."

"Yeah, it's—it's still hard. Conditioned response. I would—when it first happened, I tried to tell my mom, the police, rangers, anyone, and the harder I tried, the more—the more he would punish me. I threw up, fainted, started screaming. I was in and out of the hospital. Nothing physically wrong."

"Seemed easy enough to do, to fix everything." She tried not to make it an accusation.

Matt shook his head. "It didn't. It's a… life vest. I'm still in the water. It's cold, raining. But I'm not drowning in it. And he… plays tricks on you. Tells you nothing will work, nothing will fix it. Makes you do what he wants while making you think you're not. It's ugly. But I can't hear him now."

She waited and finally, she said: "Matt. Who are you? Who is the woman in black?"

Matt flinched and drew a breath, and his expression turned inward. "Funny," he said, "to hear that question, and not feel the vise on my chest, the paralysis of my voice—"

"Matt."

"…I've never told anyone," he said, after a silence. "I've wanted to for so long and now I can and I… don't know where to start."

"Start at the beginning."

"Can you give me some time?"

Moriko sighed, hearing the plea in it, not just the usual slick evasion from him. "Please tell me, soon."

Matt nodded. "Moriko, when you… When Vleridin ensouls you, what does—what's it like?"

"It's… a thing, I guess. It doesn't really feel like anything. It's convenient, actually—it makes sense if this is what people did before pokéballs or apricorns."

"Is that all?"

"Well, she showed me what you looked like under an, energy vision, or whatever, and it was pretty cool. You were… you had the Gray Prince's energy on you, like a mummy wrap. And the woman opened it up and let Maia ensoul you, I guess, or whatever happened there." She looked at him. "Is that what happened? What does it feel like?"

"…It's the best. Everything is… delicious, right now." He flopped onto a couch and yelped as Maia licked his face.

Moriko smiled, regretful. "This is a change from how we usually talk," she said. "It's strange to hear something sincere instead of nasty."

Matt's mouth opened to add to it, but he grimaced and stopped for once. "I'm sorry. It's a failing."

Moriko looked away, spinning her pokédex in her hands. "Is that the first time you've ever apologized to me?" she asked quietly. "Not for flipping out over the storm, not for flipping out over Liona's brother, not for running into a forest fire to catch the pokémon that started it—"

"I apologize now. I was terrified of leaving Port Littoral, you know. I almost turned around after that thunderstorm, if mere weather was going to do that to me." He sighed. "I held on, somehow. Despite everything."

"You get a pass for stuff that happened before—you were unwell—but I have to tell you, dude, you were hard to be around."

"I wouldn't want to spend time with me, either," Matt said. "But I'm glad you are. Things will be different."

x.x.x.x.x

A/N: Thanks for reading! You can see illustrations of Belladonna, Pyre, and the demon pokemon Aricaust on my tumblr/deviantart.

AU versions of Axel, Ciaran, and (significant pause) Ray appear in my story _Those Who Can't Be Kept_.


	21. Dead Island

**Changelog:** Chapter 31 of Gods and Demons. Minor edits for grammar and continuity.  


Chapter 19

 _Dead Island /_ _They would rule us again if they could /_ _Nosfearat / In the west, where the sun sets  
_

 _—Aug. 9th-10th_

They took a few days to recover, swimming and relaxing at the beach, and conducting a few high-level battles at the local dojo. Russ went to the hospital for a follow-up treatment, and his mood stabilized after he was recovered and pain-free. Matt seemed to be living up to his promise to be less of a giant ass.

Moriko had been entertaining thoughts of going back to Port Littoral, but the next gym was on Sere Island, just a short morning boat ride away from Port Brac. It would be silly to stop now; they could decide after attempting it, and hang around there or take another boat up the coast back to her hometown.

She couldn't help feeling a creeping dread: even with a normal gym battle behind her with no nasty surprises or rule-bending by the leader, and even with the woman in black chasing demons far away from them, this journey had been a cavalcade of violence and terror. End the trip, break the pattern, make it stop.

And with that thought, continuing on had an appeal: better to go down fighting than running. At least they'd be training and getting most of the league done. Maybe the storm had passed?

And when Linden Jr. showed up with her father and a big grin and a day pack, well, it was hard to say no to that youthful enthusiasm and huge metagross.

"Is the backpack enough?" Prof. Linden asked. "I'm not sure if you want to redistribute items. She's little, but she's strong."

"Dad!"

"It's no problem, we have a storage device," Russ said, holding out the safety-yellow handheld. "It's a real convenience, we can carry extra water and toiletries and such."

Prof. Linden whistled, handling it briefly. "They really shrunk down that new model, I think I'll have to put in a request for one of those at my next grant application. Some of the older devices would ruin the calibration of instruments, so we never bothered and always use pokémon to levitate them. I'd hate to put them out of work, of course."

"I heard you have eight Kanto badges?" Russ asked Linden Jr.

"Heck yes," she said, keying her pokédex to display the league crest. "The best battle was definitely against Blue at tier eight, he knows what he's doing—"

"Do you mind?" Prof. Linden said to Moriko quietly, as Linden Jr. reenacted her metagross's best moves.

Moriko shrugged. "Is she going to"—Moriko thought of her ninth grade summer at a girls' camp and winced—"freak out and dive off the ferry? Get drunk and lock herself in a bathroom while screaming? Start a rumor and then cut herself after it backfires?"

Prof. Linden raised his eyebrows. "Are all those from experience?"

"Observation."

"Sounds like freshman week." He laughed. "I teach at the University of Hoenn at Mossdeep, it's, mm, it has a reputation as a party school that isn't totally unwarranted."

Moriko tried to imagine Prof. Linden at freshman week, spare and pale with a receding hairline, wearing slotted sunglasses and covered in body dye, and failed utterly.

"What do you teach?"

"Pokémon Social Behavior II and a grad course on pre-crossing history—what we know of it, anyway. Are you going to university in the fall?"

She shook her head. "I got rejected… I didn't really apply anywhere, but I got rejected from the one I applied to."

"Only one?"

"Yeah."

Prof. Linden shrugged. "What are you interested in?"

"Pokémon. Helping people, I guess."

"Ever thought about being a pokémon ranger?"

"I guess, they help people or whatever, patrol around and look cool."

Prof. Linden laughed. "They know a fair bit about pokémon, their habitats, and trying to balance the best interests of humans and pokémon with human expansion and ambition, and yes, they do help people and look cool. I think that might be a good fit for you."

Moriko shifted uncomfortably. "My marks are probably too low."

"Mm, talk to your professor, get her to look at your transcript. You want to have all A's for being a pokémon prof—it's a lot of memorization—but pokémon ranging is a full-body deal and marks aren't everything. Think about it."

She changed the subject. "You're okay with Linden Jr. going with us for a couple of days?"

He barked another laugh. "Junior... I'll remember that one—yes, I'm nearby, she has a pokédex and an allowance, and Adeline—Prof. Willow—trusts you guys. Astrid has several of my mother's old pokémon; _she_ should be protecting _me_."

"You're not worried we're kidnappers?"

"There were times I wished someone would steal her, but quite frankly, I don't think you three are on Abram's level." Prof. Linden winked. "I would appreciate if you would look out for her, especially to tell her if she's being a twerp, since she might actually believe it if she hears it from some cool older kids."

Prof. Linden looked over at Russ and Matt and Linden Jr., who were arguing about something and all talking over one another with broader and broader gestures. Abram watched them, its metal and inhuman face quite unreadable, but something about its half-lidded eyes said 'this again'.

Moriko grinned. "Can't help you there, I don't know any cool kids."

x.x.x.x.x

The first ferry to Sere Island left early in the morning, and there was a queue and security checks before boarding. The three—four—of them found themselves awake at a punishing hour.

Moriko yawned, jaw popping. She worked on a paper cup of coffee, five sugars and a little milk, which was pleasant in the fresh breeze off the sea.

"We don't need to take the ferry, we have Betsy!" Linden Jr. said again, a completely incomprehensible statement at this time of day. She waved, trying to draw them off the main road and down to a secondary dock where the water was deep and black under the lightening sky.

"Who is Betsy," Moriko said, deadpan.

"It's better as a surprise!"

Moriko had woken up at five in the morning and was done with the whole thing. "She's a wailord, right? That's wonderful. Let's get to the ferry."

"Come ooooooon," Linden groaned, and finally Russ went down after her, so they followed.

The dock timbers creaked under their feet as they made their way to its end. Linden drew back her arm and threw a dive ball out over the water like a baseball pitcher or the trainers in the movies.

The noise of the pokéball reconvergence effect cracked out over the water, louder than Moriko had ever heard it. Betsy appeared in an enormous field of blue light, displacing water that sent waves rushing up to splash against the pilings, and to reach for the little boats and canoes dragged up past the high-tide line.

Moriko was impressed; wailord were mostly used for comic effect in media, but Betsy was enormous up close, as big as a house with huge ship's-propeller fins.

"Nice to meet you, Betsy," Moriko said, "but Linden, I don't think we can do the surfing pokémon thing—we need to change and our stuff isn't waterproof—"

"It'll be fine, look how sturdy she is!"

Betsy warbled a laugh. "To be fair," she said, her deep voice tolling, "conditions at sea can change quickly, Astrid—"

"Linden! Please!"

"—Linden, and I can't dive if you all aren't ready for it."

"…It would save us a little money," Matt put in.

Moriko bit her lip. Not buying the ferry ticket would be a bonus; at their current rate they were looking at pokémon center cafeteria food for every meal and potions for emergencies only.

"What do you think, Russ?"

"Seems fun," he said, mild.

"Yes!" Linden pumped her fist.

Betsy hummed a confirmation. "Do you have some other water pokémon? It's better to travel in a convoy."

They set out from the cove perched on Betsy's back, her velvety dorsal skin cool to the touch. They were all barefoot, huddled in the center and clutching their bags zipped up in their rain covers, but the wailord surfed expertly, a wave of her own making buoying them up and compensating for the swell.

Vleridin, Maia, and Sauza followed her, Maia gliding placidly while Vleridin exerted herself, competing to make a higher, larger surf swell and smirking over at the group. The geysard threw up a bigger cloud of steam than usual and lagged behind with his head trailing in the water.

"See?" Linden Jr. called from her spot on Betsy's head. "Look how great this is!"

It wasn't bad, Moriko thought, with the fresh breeze, and they were dry thanks to Betsy's skill and size—spray simply didn't reach them. Russ stretched out with his pack for a pillow, and Sylvia let herself out and promptly took flight, soaring high above.

Liona was happy to fly as well, although Thanasanian the oberant was disoriented and needed time to observe the ocean. She confided that she might not be able to fly in the wind for long, her air-type manipulation less practiced than that of the nigriff and borfang who had spent their entire lives above ground in weather.

Sere Island was a dark smudge on the horizon when Linden's pokédex lit up; she answered it, shielding it from the wind.

"Hey dad, we're surfing with Betsy!"

Prof. Linden's voice came through, a little garbled. "Hi Junior, how are you guys doing?"

"It's great!"

"Can you see Sere Island?"

"Yeah, we're getting close."

"Their pokédex service is out," Prof. Linden said, the connection worsening illustratively, "and there were strong ghost-type readings before it went down. They might be experiencing a swarm or—"

The connection failed, the pokédex displaying the dizzy magnemite 'signal lost' icon.

"Shoot," Linden said, and tried to call him back, but the call kept failing.

"Is that a problem?" Moriko asked.

Linden shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know how you guys put up with it, you have terrible service in this region. I'll call him back from a phone in the town."

As they approached Sere Island the hints of a blue-sky day were lost as the sea grew rougher. Betsy started to pitch before she smoothed their passage again with surf. The flying pokemon landed and went into their pokeballs, and the water-types drew closer together.

Moriko clutched her bag again and woke Russ, and Matt started to get something out of his bag as Linden trotted back over. The cross-wave that made them all stagger was simply bad luck, and Linden accidentally slapped their storage device out of Matt's hand.

Moriko watched the handheld fall as if in slow motion, the bright yellow plastic spinning, bouncing off Betsy's side and sliding straight into the water. Food, clothing, supplies, all stored as energy, went with it.

Greenness filled her vision. She leapt into the waves.

She could see so clearly, the saltwater cool and pleasant and not stinging her eyes for once, and swimming was easy—amazingly easy, easier than wearing fins. She shot down into the depths, the storage device bright even as the water grew dim—it wasn't even that far to the bottom, the island an outcrop of an underwater arm of rock stretching out from the mainland.

She sensed other pokémon: corsola and ubiquitous tentacool, seanami gamboling, a surprised carchardax contemplating challenging them but intimidated by Betsy's size.

She pulled the water, reversing the device's fall and catching it in her mouth, and she shot back to the surface, tossing it triumphantly toward the others.

The humans stared at her in horror.

"Where's Moriko?" Russell shouted.

She tried to look down at herself and found that her eyes were not placed quite correctly to do so. She looked back and saw mossy hide and long, long legs ending in hooves on a swirling jet of water.

"Oh," she thought, and the greenness came up, and she fell, her vision tearing into two; she fell and hit the cold water; she fell, losing the jet; she gasped and spat saltwater; she pulled the water again to push up the girl—

 _She—I—_

Moriko felt heat and Sauza was beside her, and she threw an arm over his warm body and let him draw her back to Betsy's side. Another jet helped her scrabble up the wall of the wailord's side, her sodden summer wear not quite so light anymore.

Matt gave her a towel from his bag. "Moriko…"

Russ watched her, shocked. "What the hell was that? You turned into Vleridin?"

Moriko looked over at the mooskeg, floating in the waves; she looked as confused as Moriko felt.

"I… did I?"

"More large waves are coming," Betsy broke in. "I'm going to hurry us on."

x.x.x.x.x

The wailord got them to the docks at Sere Island, and she made pillars of seawater to help them make the leap, the draft not enough for Betsy's bulk.

Maia had rinsed off the seawater, and Moriko had dried off in the wind somewhat, her clothes hopelessly wrinkled. Linden hung back as they made their way up the pier.

"So… the turning into a pokémon thing," Russ ventured.

Moriko and Vleridin glanced at each other and away. Moriko had an acute embarrassment roiling in her stomach, as if someone had interrupted an intimate moment.

"I saw the—thing—fall, and I felt Moriko's horror," Vleridin said. "So I leapt after it, and swam down—I didn't feel—" the mooskeg broke off, pondering. "There was more color, as I see when I ensoul her. And I knew the, thing, was important, though now… I have no idea why."

"You both lunged for it," Matt said, "and you both shone as you went under. Only Vleridin came back up, until she… broke apart into you and herself."

"Ah," Vleridin said. "She ensouled _me_."

"Is that even possible? Humans are matter, not energy," Russ said.

"Theologically—" Matt began.

"When the woman in black does that thing, when she turns into the black charizard," Moriko said, "that's the same, isn't it?"

"Unless Prof. Linden is right, and she's a bunch of pokémon glommed together," Matt said.

Moriko thought of what she'd seen under energy sight. "She—"

Linden Jr. had approached them carefully, and broke in: "Moriko, I… I'm really sorry about the storage device. It was an accident! I'm really sorry!"

Moriko waved a hand but she went on.

"I shouldn't have made you guys all ride Betsy! I'm sorry, please don't tell my dad!"

Moriko smiled lopsidedly and remembered being fourteen. "You should tell him yourself, that way no one can hold it over your head."

"Take it easy, kiddo. Welcome to Team Port Littoral," Russ said. "Weird shit twenty four seven."

"It's fine," Matt said. "I think that was an important finding anyway." He petted Maia's broad head and she whuffed in contentment. "Let's see about this gym."

x.x.x.x.x

Sere Village was completely deserted.

It was morning on a weekday, with no one around; shops were open but had no one in them. The cafes had food in their coolers, but no one to sell it. The parks were empty, the walking streets empty, the famous haunted lighthouse had no tourists.

"This is part of the act, right? Ghost-type gym, haunted island, gets really spooky before your match?" Linden said into the hollow stillness.

They passed an old-style graveyard, its gates hanging open, covered in traditional paper wards and creaking in the sea wind.

"Totally not spooky," Moriko said.

"There is a _lot_ of ghost-type energy here," Vleridin said.

"What does it feel like?"

Vleridin looked around, her great head swinging and the mist running over her hooves. "Everything is… insubstantial. Fleeting. It shivers in the cracks of the stones and slithers through the grass."

" _Is_ this part of the act?" Russ asked, turning on his pokédex. "No service, still."

"Local mode seems to be okay." Matt had his pokédex open, scanning, but there was nothing on its radar. "Are there any pokémon around?" he asked the mooskeg.

"I can't tell… there's a watchfulness."

"I'm—" Linden said, her voice pitching up high, and she cleared her throat and tried again. "I'm gonna call my dad."

They checked the pokémon center—also empty—for a phone, but couldn't get it to work. Matt tried a few passwords, but it was part of the pokémon transport system and probably needed a key as well.

The pokécenter machines humming in the silence were especially unsettling so they kept moving, and found a regular phone behind the front desk at the hotel. They all sighed audibly when the connection was made and Prof. Linden answered.

"Dad! We're on the island now, the landline still works."

"Astrid—how is everything? Are there ghost pokémon swarming?"

They crowded around the phone's camera.

"Prof. Linden—no one is here. Is this part of the act? A spooky island?" Moriko asked.

Prof. Linden squinted into his phone. "No-one is—where? In the pokémon center?"

"Anywhere. We haven't seen anyone since we got here."

"Uhhh," Prof. Linden turned slightly away from the camera, and a projected screen appeared in front of him. He typed something, his eyes moving. "Yes? 'Sere Island strives to entertain visitors with its haunted island aesthetic'? Maybe?"

"The pokémon are uneasy," Matt said. "We haven't seen any other pokémon either."

"Your pokédexes still aren't syncing?"

"No," Matt said, "we're on a landline right now. No pokédex, phone or internet."

Prof. Linden typed something else and stared at his computer, scrolling. "Listen, I'm looking at the RES website and it's like I said, there's a spike in ghost-type energy above the already high background, and—"

They all stared at the dizzy magnemite. _Call lost._

Linden redialed. _Call failed._

"Well, this isn't weird as shit," Matt said, resigned.

They sat outside and got out their pokédexes and snacks in subdued silence.

"What should we do?" Linden asked.

"The real ferry is coming in," Matt said. "Maybe we should just wait for them and meet up with the crew."

"Yeah, I think we should leave," Moriko agreed. "I don't think this is normal, despite the haunted island thing."

Russ looked pensive and finally took out Celeste's pokéball.

The celestiule appeared, her sky-pelt an overcast light gray and her mane and tail white. She raised her head appraisingly, looking up the rise.

"I see you," she muttered.

x.x.x.x.x

They followed Celeste up the road, switchbacking up and up to the lookout and the small gym, the dirt road flanked by huge, broad trees girdled by ropes and paper belts. Curse- and charm-seals were tucked into cracks and boles, and there were old carved stones among the trunks, squat and staring or leering grotesqueries.

They reached the shrine at the top of the hill. Stern masters stood watch, their stone features worn away by rain and time, their hands raised in gestures of protection and benediction. The wind sighed, rushing along the tops of the trees, and clouds scudded over the increasingly rough water.

"You know the part of the movie where, like, the cupboards open and groan 'leave this place' but the characters keep exploring?" Linden said. "Are we doing that right now? Is something terrible going to come out?"

"It can try, certainly," Maia rumbled.

They approached the gym's entrance, the doors pleasantly weathered and set into the whitewashed walls. "Last chance to leave this place, ghosts and zombies," Linden muttered.

"We're gonna see something fucked up in three… two… one," Moriko said, and pushed the doors open.

"As the poet said, 'darkness there and nothing more'," said Matt.

Linden took a picture of the empty, dim interior. "No orbs or mysterious shadows or anything," she said, disappointed.

"Next guess: murder basement," Moriko said.

There was no basement, and exhausted from their early morning and repeated scares, they moved on to the lookout. They could see the ferry coming in, and behind it the faint gray shadow of the mainland.

"I think we better go down to meet them," Russ said, resigned. "This was funny at first, but I'm getting tired of the joke."

Celeste clicked her teeth in annoyance, muttering to herself. The light- and dark-type seemed to have some ability to detect and neutralize malevolent pokémon; she was as suspicious as they were about the island, but for the moment just as confused.

They started down the road again, and halfway down, Russell staggered.

"Watch yourself," Moriko tried to say, but her voice sounded slow and garbled to her own ears. She lifted her suddenly-leaden hands to her mouth.

"Hypnosis," someone said from far away. A shadow passed over them as Abram leapt and galloped away, Linden clutching the broad dome of his central body.

Russ was on the ground with Celeste nudging him. Sylvia appeared as well, but she was staggering, her wings flopping around uncoordinated.

Moriko realized dimly that she was on the ground too, a particularly fascinating pebble centimeters away from her face. It would be so good to just sleep for a few moments, she thought, she was so tired, she had gotten up so early…

x.x.x.x.x

Vleridin awoke with a start from a dream of the desert, and water on the horizon taunting her. Around her the other pokémon were stirring: the old-soul celestiule, her sky-skin roiling with dark clouds; the tibyss, her bio-lights winking on and off, uncoordinated and dim; and the borfang, anxiously nosing the gravel for a sign of her trainer.

"Where is he? Where is he?" Sylvia whined.

A snarl from Maia set Vleridin's teeth on edge. "Who did—" she tried to stand and fell, her blue fin-bones all clattering. "I'll kill, I'll _kill_ them— Matt! Matt!" she roared.

"Yelling will do no good," Celeste said. "They hide from my sight!"

Sylvia flew into the air, her broad wings stirring up dust on the road, and she arced back and forth, calling her trainer's name.

"Who did this?" Maia repeated, managing to get to her feet.

Vleridin rolled her head, gesturing at the entire island. "By deduction: whoever disappeared all the other humans here, they put us to sleep and took the trainers too."

"Why not us?" Maia growled.

Vleridin looked out into the forest. There should be plant-type energy here, water and wind from the sea, and rock and ground from the exposed stone and soil, but it was all overlaid with creeping ghostly energy, dizzying and misleading the senses. Something had snatched away the humans and left them—but there were no humans _or_ pokémon in the town.

"…Are they coming back for us?" the mooskeg said.

"Show yourselves, cowards!" Maia bellowed, her tail lashing. She rounded on the forest, a little ice flying out of her jaws involuntarily, and then she followed it up with a real attack that left the nearby trees tinkling and glittering with frost.

Nothing, not even birds, stirred in the wood.

Sylvia returned, calling out "I found Linden!" as she landed.

Running and gravel crunching were soon audible, and the metagross returned with the pale human.

"The sleep attack has ended," Abram said, in leaden tones. "You all are well?"

"Why are you still awake?" Maia demanded.

Linden shrugged. "We ran out of range in time, I guess."

"More to the point, Moriko, Russell, and Matthew are gone," Vleridin said.

"Oh shit," said Linden, "I'm the final girl. And we haven't even seen the monster. How can we—? No, scratch that—I should just leave. _We_ should just leave and get my dad and the grad students and their pokémon."

"No," said Sylvia, Maia, and Vleridin all at once. They looked at each other, and Vleridin felt faintly embarrassed—how had she gotten lumped in with these slavish, devoted children?

"You may go," Maia said imperiously. " _I_ will find Matt."

"We couldn't find the humans of this island," Vleridin returned. "How can we find our—these humans?"

"We have to try," said Sylvia. "Let's go look for clues in the gym!"

Linden drummed her fingers on Abram's carapace. "Sounds great, but what are we even looking for? How are the others even gone? I don't see any… tracks, or whatever?"

"A demon has taken them," Celeste said, her sky-skin flicking from cloud to cloud, dark and light and dark again; her eyes roved, seeing something they couldn't. "You are not safe. We are not safe." She looked at Linden. "Go back to the ferry, Astrid. Warn them."

"It's Linden." She bounced impatiently. "Ugh. Ughhhh! I should go, I know I should, but—this might be awesome!"

"It might be horrible," Sylvia growled. "You weren't there in the desert, when that _thing_ hurt Russ!"

"Exactly! That would have been so cool!"

"It was not cool!"

In the end, they watched Linden and Abram gallop away down the slope toward the town.

They returned to the gym, looking hard under spectral sight for traces of the demon pokémon, but with all the ghost energy it was like trying to look through a thick mist. The energy was as deceptive as the type: it shifted unexpectedly, the strength of the aura fading in and out, letting through tantalizing glimpses of other energies and sources. There were wild pokémon here after all: they were concealing themselves in cracks and crannies, their auras compressed into tight, terrified balls.

They explored further than the humans had, into the wood beyond the gym, and they found a rocky promontory studded with human-made images of gods in dark stone.

Sylvia and Maia studied them, tails waving, and Vleridin was again reminded that they were only a few years old for all their strength.

"…Who are they?" the borfang asked.

"The—" Vleridin began.

"Do not say their names," Celeste snapped. "They ruled us once and they would again. They would take from us as much as the demons would, given the chance. As much or more."

Vleridin sniffed. "I prefer to be spoken to more deferentially by children," she said, but the celestiule was already moving off. "I was _going_ to say, they are the gods-who-left—but before they did, we gave them polite sobriquets to avoid attracting their attention: the Liar, the Judge, the Dreamer, the Enchanter, the Ghost, the Weaver."

Sylvia watched her, puzzled. "I thought legendary pokémon were good—they keep the world in balance. I saw a movie about it with Russ."

"Legendaries aren't gods," Maia said as they walked. "They have long lives and great power, but they are no smarter than us and they can use it for good or for ill. They aren't gods—they can be beaten." She glanced at them sidelong. "I've seen it, on TV with Matt. A rayquaza was in the tournament—and it can be beaten by ice." She exhaled, her breath fogging.

"They are gluttons for energy," Celeste said. "Better when they had to sleep through every other season, every other decade. Terrible that they are at last partnering with humans; they will be putting their snouts into everything."

"You sounded like an elder there, old-soul," Vleridin called up to her. "Your skin is slipping."

Celeste brayed a laugh, but she kept walking.

"The gods were different, they say," Vleridin said to Sylvia. "There was far more energy in those days, but they destroyed it all fighting the demons, and when it was gone, they left." She jerked her head at Celeste. "Superstitious, to still be worried about them. It's like worrying that a fire-type will follow you into the ocean."

"It could, actually," Maia said. "But it would be stupid."

"Exactly," said Celeste.

They pushed into the gym, nosing around the equipment and into the humans' living quarters. Vleridin turned over papers with her vines and half-fancied that the lines on them meant something. A TV had been left on, but it was gibberish without a human listening to it, and in any case it just showed colors now, meaningless.

Sylvia hunched her wings down small and lifted up furniture, her talons carefully grasping tables and sofas, but there was nothing but dust underneath. It was the same as the town; there were things left out, food on the tables half-eaten and left behind.

They jumped at a siren sounding, and followed the noise to another room with a tiled floor. There was a faint trail of smoke coming from some human thing set against the wall, and the alarm in the ceiling peeped deafeningly.

"I know this one!" Sylvia said. "The food is burning. One time, Moriko and Russ were playing games and they didn't hear the noise." She twisted the controls with her vines until all the lights were off.

Maia wrenched the door open, annoyed, releasing a gout of smoke and warm air, and she froze the hot metal interior. Something inside broke, tinkling. The alarm kept sounding and they moved off, frustrated with the human artifacts' refusal to cooperate.

In the center of the gym arena, Vleridin realized her vision was clearer. There was less of the ghost-type energy here; it was more churned up, crisscrossed by humans and pokémon, consumed by battles. Celeste flickered, hiding energy, pretending to be a child, while Maia and Sylvia looked more normal, their soul-stuff glowing in their bodies green and teal and blue and white—

Vleridin sharpened her senses; here there was a little pulse of energy on Maia, a soul heart's beat, a pause, and then another, beating in time to some other—

"You have soul-bonded one of the humans," the celestiule said, but she was looking at Vleridin, not Maia.

"I—"

Celeste jumped, kicking up her hind hooves. "Yes! Yes! The link, we have to find the link—oh, confound this ghost-stuff—"

Vleridin remembered the thread connecting Matthew to the Gray Prince and wanted to find it on herself, wanted to bite it away—was she stealing from Moriko as the demon had? No, that couldn't be right… But they'd seen that gray thread only with the many-souled woman there, ravenously consuming all the energy in the area to support those she carried, and leaving bare that subtle effect of the link.

"Hey!" something called from the doorway.

They all jumped at the intruder and rounded on it, attack energies bristling, and it squeaked and dived back out of the gym. They followed it out, but there was no-one in the courtyard.

"What was it?" Sylvia asked, the thorns on her neck and back standing out in fright.

"Some kind of ghost-type," Vleridin grunted. "Come on out then," she called. "What's going on here? Where are the humans?"

After a moment the ghost reappeared, phasing back into visibility; it was a small, stubby orange pokémon, and it waved its black fringe at them sheepishly.

"What are you doing, pumpkaboo?" Maia breathed out ice crystals—well away from it, but it squeaked and started to disappear again.

"Don't go!" Vleridin said, shooting the tibyss a hard look. "Just—what happened?"

Other ghosts phased in to join them, several banette and a shuppet, and they sized each other up for a few moments.

"Something weird," said one of the banette.

"It's always weird here," the pumpkaboo squeaked.

"Well, weirder than usual."

"Start from the beginning," Vleridin said, wanting to bite them all with impatience.

"We're with Tsukuyomi," said the banette, "you know, the gym leader? I was training with them and their students when all of a sudden all the humans fell asleep and slumped to the ground, right? It was really weird."

"And so did Glamdring and Treebeard," the pumpkaboo added. "But Treebeard woke up after a while, natural cure, see?"

"And they went to go look for everyone."

"You skipped part of the story," Maia said, her tail lashing. "What happened to the humans?"

The ghost-type pokémon all looked discomfited.

"…Skulls came," the pumpkaboo said finally. "Skulls came and carried them away."

They all stared at it. "What."

The banette looked at each other uncertainly. "A couple weeks ago, it started to feel… richer here, you know?" a shiny one said. "It was easy to train and we got a lot of levels."

"The ghost-type energy," Vleridin muttered. "But no one disappeared until today?"

"Yeah."

"So _what_ took them away?"

"It looked like skulls," the pumpkaboo said again. "You know. Like duskull, or ossprey. They have bones visible, right? Gray and green skulls, and they piled up under the humans and moved them away."

Sylvia narrowed her eyes. "And why didn't you help?"

"They were strong!" it squeaked. "Way too strong! I just got here from Kalos!"

"Stronger than us?" Maia growled.

The banette tried to decide among themselves.

"Maybe?"

"Nah, it's stronger."

"They're all high levels though."

"Like level matters if you're asleep."

Maia's tail went up at that. "Do you… do any of you know safeguard?"

"I do!" the pumpkaboo peeped. "I learned it from a TM!"

"Safeguard?" Sylvia asked.

"It will stop the sleep attack if it comes again," Maia said.

Celeste returned from stalking around and around the grounds. "There is simply too much energy here," she said. "You all have to eat it," she said to the ghosts.

"No can do."

"What do you think we've been doing?"

"We're _stuffed_. Get it?" a banette said, and they all started hooting with laughter.

"Eat more! Eat more and use your strongest attacks if you want to see your trainer again!"

The pumpkaboo dutifully planted its roots and started drawing in ghost-type energy from the surroundings, while the shuppet fired off a few clumsy hex attacks and a shadow sneak. The banette conferred briefly and started gathering energy for a huge multi-shadow ball, an ungainly attack that they were probably too low-level to perform properly, and it showed: it was eating up ambient energy rapidly as they struggled to support it.

"Excellent! Mooskeg, stand here—tibyss, here!"

Maia snarled at the celestiule, her fins high and quivering, but she moved as indicated, and Vleridin put that slight away for proper revenge on another occasion. She could see the soul pulse on Maia more easily now, the mist drawn into the crackling purple spheres maintained by the banette, and—yes, she could see where it led, away into the earth underneath the gym.

"They're under the ground somewhere?" Maia growled. "Is there a basement under the gym after all?"

Vleridin felt the trees and their roots grasping down, and she felt where they stopped, where they hit rock and snaked along it, and she felt the sea, fingers reaching into the land and wearing it away, bit by bit, and—

"There are caves," she said suddenly. "There are caves in the headland. We have to find a way down there—"

"Without getting put to sleep again," Maia said. "Are you coming, pumpkaboo?"

"Of course! Let's go get Tsukuyomi!"

The banette were flagging, and seeing that some conclusion had been reached, they let the shadow ball attacks go, whirling high into the air. They watched them burst, shielding their eyes as they looked up against the weak light off the overcast sky.

"Whew! We should do that more often," one said.

"Boom! Haha!"

"Are you all coming?" Vleridin asked them.

The shiny banette waved one of its arms. "Give us a minute! We'll follow you."

Another one groaned. "Do we have to?"

"That kind of talk is gonna get you benched!" the shuppet squeaked.

"Only if you tell them, snitcher."

" _We're going_ ," Vleridin said pointedly, and used her vines to lift the pumpkaboo onto Sylvia's back. "What's your name?"

"Jackie!"

"Just keep that safeguard rolling, will you, Jackie?"

x.x.x.x.x

The windward side of the island was suffused with storms' energy, even the thick ghost-type emanation struggling against the wind- and water- and lightning-type power that had gathered there for thousands of years. It was no mystery why humans had built a temple on the island; at a crossroads between sea and land and sky, it was a deep well for power.

Jackie kept safeguard up, the silver runes whirling around them periodically as they found a way down to the beach, rocks and dirt shifting treacherously underneath their paws and hooves. Sylvia flew down, which Vleridin considered a grossly unfair advantage, but the borfang called out paths and dangerous ledges as the pumpkaboo squeaked happily on her back.

The mass hypnosis started up again just as they made it down, and they stayed awake, mostly protected by the middling-level pumpkaboo's power. Without the benefit of unconsciousness it was an awful, crawling feeling that shook in your teeth and bones and made you want to turn to energy to escape it—and wouldn't _that_ be a convenient state for the demon pokémon to find you in.

"It senses us coming," Maia hissed. "We can't let it know that we're avoiding the attack!"

They all laid down in the sand, suppressing their energies and pretending to be asleep, and eventually the hypnosis wave trailed off. They stood again, sick and unsteady, but still awake.

"So it happened again?" Jackie chirped at them.

Maia shook herself, fins rippling, and squinted at the pumpkaboo. "You didn't _notice_?"

"I'm immune to sleep attacks! It's my ability!"

"Cheater," Vleridin muttered.

The beach was devoid of wild pokémon; there were a few out in the water, giving the place a wide berth, and seabirds wheeling high above, oblivious to elemental dramatics and out of range of the hypnosis, if it even affected them. They passed pillars of black rock standing sternly out in the water, and there were rock overhangs and shallow caves where the sea had pressed on some weakness, countless storms wearing away the island over long aeons.

The right cave was impossible to miss; it was malevolent, crawling with demon energy, stinking of it.

"We need to make a plan—let's renew the safeguard and creep in—" Maia began.

Celeste charged past her into the cave. "At last! I see you, demon!"

"Are you kidding—"

"So much for that. Russ! Russell!" Sylvia shot in after the celestiule, the pumpkaboo whooping.

"You don't have to follow her in, you buttered duck!" Maia roared after her.

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko swam in and out of consciousness. She saw forest, sky, rock walls and flickering light—

She rolled over, the ground seesawing wildly like that time she and Russ had gotten drunk on sake and plum wine at his parents' house. They'd tried to play video games, but their reaction times were shot, and eventually they just sat in the bathroom against the nausea. His mom had been _disappointed,_ but she'd also thought it was hilarious.

Her mind wandering, Moriko looked around and focused on the pale light.

They were in a cave, and ahead was a raised section of stone surrounded by flat black water like a mirror.

Moriko remembered another cave and another pool, and she lurched back. Her head was pounding; pain lanced straight into her eyes, and she clutched at her head, trying not to throw up.

She looked back, slower, at the figure on the stone: a person in a Shinto ceremonial outfit, sitting with their head slumped forward, and above them, suspended…

She fumbled for her pokédex and pointed its eye toward it.

 _Cryptidex mode activated. Aura analysis: Ghost- and acid-type, 85% certainty. Ghost- and rock-type, 15% certainty._ _ _Reduce range to increase certainty. (WARNING: HIGH LEVEL DO NOT APPROACH UNLESS FAINTED)_ Possible match: Nosfearat, the horde pokémon. This pokémon has many ancillary bodies, but only the central portion takes damage. It can drain the vitality of humans as well as pokémon, which may account for various vampire legends._

Nosfearat. Another demon. It was skeletal, with long front limbs and a pointed skull perched atop a rib cage wreathed with scraps of wispy cloth, and its spinal column extended down, as long as a snake and coiling below it. It seemed to hang in the air, quiescent, and from it grew a mass of spiderweb-thin strands that seemed to glitter in the faint light.

She saw movement and whirled her head to look at it, wincing at another stab of pain.

A skull floated past, and then another, and more and more, vaguely rodent-shaped and whispering faintly in their passage. They were glowing like will-o-wisps, and as they converged on the person and the nosfearat they illuminated dozens of other people, slumped and unmoving, and bound by the strands to the floating demon pokémon.

A familiar figure crawled up the dais; it was Russ, barely on his feet and shielding his eyes, as if looking into the sun. Moriko's vision swam as something shivered, hummed in the dim cavern. Russ dropped to his knees, but he put a hand out, and he touched the dark pool. She thought she saw it grow, well up like a fountain of crude oil, and spill over him.

Moriko thought she might have gone out again because suddenly she was looking at Russ, standing tall, pokéball in hand, the small skulls chittering all around him. He put out his hand and seemed to grasp at something, and seized and tore it violently.

Screeching rang out and the floating skeleton fell, the skulls milling around in confusion and dismay. Russ threw the pokéball to reveal Keigan the springbuck, who staggered drunkenly as he reformed.

Russell's voice sounded garbled, but Keigan managed to produce a whirlwind, trapping the nosfearat in the vortex. The skulls rushed away from Russ, mobbing the nosfearat and assembling into long, auxiliary limbs; it extended one and a strong hypnosis wave pulsed. The springbuck faltered, slumping.

Hooves clacked, drumming on the rock, and there was a high, wild equine scream behind Moriko. White light illuminated the nosfearat; a ray pierced it. It shrieked, a sound that made Moriko's limbs stiffen with fear and her jaw ache.

There was a triumphant roar and Sylvia came streaking in, teal dragonfire spilling between her fangs. She closed in and breathed it in a huge gout that washed over the demon. Angry chittering started up and purple confuse rays shot out, high-level ones that left flashing afterimages on the human eye.

Moriko felt herself levered upward.

"Can you stand?" Vleridin was saying, and Moriko started to say no, but she was already feeling better, and she staggered and clutched at Vleridin's neck to support herself.

Maia was nosing among numerous other sleeping—gods, let them be sleeping—forms and found Matt, who was reluctantly stirring.

"Matt!" Maia growled. "Matt! Did it hurt you? I'll—"

"I'm gonna hurl," Matt muttered.

There were yet more skulls hopping toward the dais to join with the main body of the nosfearat. It grew, looming above Russ and Keigan, and Sylvia battered it with her claws and tail, ripping away talon-fuls of the bones, but they hit the wall and started hopping back immediately.

"Help them, Vleridin. I'm okay," Moriko said, wobbly.

"If you insist," the mooskeg said, and she drew away to join the battle.

She felt at her trainer belt—they all had that slight tingle of an occupied ball, thank goodness—and threw down Rufus's pokéball.

The ball opened but the energy in it was sluggish and took a few tries to re-form, and finally coalesced into the oxhaust, kneeling and clutching at his armored head. He looked around the cave and looked like he regretted it, and he laid on his side on the ground.

"Rufus! Are you okay?"

He groaned. "I feel _terrible_. This is worse than bleeding. Why is everything wobbling? Did someone use earthquake?"

"A demon pokémon put us all to sleep, looks like it got you too."

Moriko looked over at Keigan, who was protecting Russ, but the springbuck was swaying and his attacks were arcing drunkenly every time he attempted one. She flinched at a huge crackle of ice energy as Maia started fighting the nosfearat as well.

Moriko realized that the pokémon in their pokéballs were too sick to fight properly, and a lance of icy fear ran through her body.

Vleridin was okay, Maia was okay—the pokémon who'd been left behind could fight, which meant they had three pokémon and a baby—a precocious and weird baby—celestiule to fight a demon pokémon that had sleep-effect-ed an entire town.

 _Holy shit._

The nosfearat fired viscous, green-brown sludge at them; it splattered Sylvia, leaving smoking holes in her coat and wings, and she howled in pain— _caustic blast_ , the attackdex chirped helpfully—and reacted with the rock.

It was high-level to boot. Moriko looked at the dozens of people slumped around the cave and her vision filled with human bodies pulped and gored by attacks, charred by real flame and electricity—

"Get back. Get back!" she yelled, finding her voice. "Vleridin, nature power! Use the rocks to protect the people!"

Vleridin bellowed and the cave's stone floor began to glow gray and crack apart, separating into huge slabs of stone that the mooskeg levitated forward and set on end or piled up haphazardly. The dais split with a noise that seemed unwarrantedly loud, and they all staggered at the sound. Vleridin looked like she'd rather hurl the boulders at the nosfearat, but finished the barrier just in time.

Maia's markings were glowing and water flooded into the cave from an underwater entrance. Seawater sloshed against the makeshift dike, chunks of ice floating in it and shimmering with oily poison.

"Surf, Maia! Water against acid!" Matt was calling.

Russ was in there somewhere; it was suicidal. He had to feel as bad as Moriko did and Matt looked, and the two of them just barely staggered over to the new rock wall, peering over it like it was a match they hadn't bought tickets to instead of a fight for their lives. They ducked as deflected leaves and ice shards hit the rock.

"How does this keep happening?" Moriko yelled to Matt.

Matt grinned weakly, waving his pokédex. "The good news is, this one has a name—I don't think it's in the same league as the Gray Prince or his buddy."

"Good, so it won't obliterate us, it'll just wear us down—we only have three pokémon in good shape, Rufus would have been throwing up in his pokéball if he ate food or that was even possible, and I assume the others aren't doing much better."

"Don't discount the celestiule, something real strange is going on there," Matt said, glancing over the barrier and jerking back as drops of acid pattered on the rock and sizzled in the sand at their feet.

"Russ! Get back here! You are going to die!" Moriko yelled over the rocks, ducking quickly. "Did he even notice?"

Matt looked. "He's not listening. I think Keigan is managing a light screen, which is why he still has skin—"

"Matt, we have to wake up these people—"

"The best defense is to knock that thing down—"

"Yeah, which we're clearly helping with, crouching here. Come on!"

Moriko threw down Thanasanian's pokéball and tried to remember her first aid classes while the oberant sluggishly reformed. "Hello? Hello?" she said loudly to the person in the Shinto priest robes, sprawled on the remains of the dais, and hesitantly tried to take their pulse. Their skin was very cool to the touch.

Matt managed to stand and set about similarly, trying to rouse the next nearest person.

Thanasanian buzzed unhappily as she appeared.

"Thana, I know you feel like shit, but please light screen or reflect us or anything—" Moriko grabbed the person's hands, dragging them further away from the battle, where flashes of ice blue and teal fire and screeches from the nosfearat were still raging.

The demon pokémon reared back like a snake, and it threw off its secondary skulls and dove underwater. Outraged snarls from their pokémon followed, and Maia set the seawater churning, searching for it while the skulls clacked on the rocks, confused.

There was a rumble and the nosfearat burst out of the remains of the dais in an explosion of sand and rock slag, melted by acid. It loomed over Moriko and Matt, acid dripping from its jaws, exuded by the bones.

No hypnosis this time, its eyes seemed to say.

Somewhere in her mind she knew she should be terrified, but anger surged up instead, hot and boiling, and she wanted to show her teeth, wanted to snarl, her fingers curled into claws, and all she could think was _how dare you_ as she stared up into that leering skull wreathed with stinking, rotten hide—

Moriko felt thorns, felt rock, felt the churning sea, it all felt so near, like if she pushed just a little it would all burst—

Light, blinding, stabbed through it— _genesis lance_ , said the attackdex—and the nosfearat howled, transfixed, impaled, the spectral light in its eyes dimming and its limbs going slack.

"I see you, demon," Celeste whispered, a whisper that they all heard, as if to a friend's ear.

It was dragged backward; Moriko realized Maia was roaring, a wild expression of pure rage as she sent waves to wash the demon out. Vleridin was pulling with her thornvines on its long bone tail, hauling it out of its hole like vermin.

Suddenly the pressure in the room was gone. Matt blinked and worked his jaw as if his ears had just popped.

Moriko ran to peer over the rock wall. "Russ!"

Russell was standing in the dirty seawater like an absolute madman, retrieving something. He turned and walked back toward them, flanked by Sylvia and Keigan, the former of whom could barely restrain her excitement and relief despite her injuries. He was holding an ultra ball in one hand and clutching his head in the other.

"God, hypnosis always looked like a humorous pratfall in movies," he said as he drew near. "I may vomit."

Moriko stared at the ball. "Did you catch it?"

"Yeah, another demon for Professor Maple," he said. He put it on his trainer belt with an appalling nonchalance and started recalling his pokémon.

Celeste alighted delicately and recalled herself. Sylvia ignored the beam, trying to lick Russ's face and getting dark ichor on his clothes.

"Sylvia, please, you're covered in acid—" Moriko said, as Maia soaked them both with clean water.

Vleridin pushed over one of the slabs of rock and shook herself, using water sport to clear off any traces of the demon's attacks still stuck to her.

"Acid-types!" the mooskeg muttered.

"Thank you," Moriko said to Vleridin, Maia, and Sylvia. "You saved us! Uh… where are we?"

"Of course we did," Vleridin said. "We're in a cave on the western coast of the island."

They went to try to rouse the other people strewn about the cave, and to their great relief they finally stirred. As the first few awoke it seemed the spell was broken, and the networked chambers were filled with the echoes of people groaning and trying to stand.

"Here they are!" they heard shouted. Soon there were sailors from the Port Brac ferry coming into the cave, and someone with a large ship's first aid kit that Moriko hoped was a nurse or an EMT.

Linden waved and came over to them with Abram. "I got help! You guys are okay? What happened?"

"There was another demon pokémon," Russ said, "and I caught it. Nosfearat."

Linden gave a shriek of dismay. "I _told_ you guys! I told you! Ughhhhh, I missed it!"

"Good," said Abram.

x.x.x.x.x

"I owe you some explanation," Tsukuyomi, the gym leader said.

"So, you know why and how your whole town was being drained by a ghost pokémon?" the pokémon ranger said to them sharply.

Tsukuyomi winced; their banette and pumpkaboo paused in fawning over them to frown at the ranger. Tsukuyomi was every inch the mysterious shrine-keeper with genehan white hair and eyes and long, sweeping robes. Out of uniform and sick after being energy-drained, they looked more like a goth kid who'd had a bad night.

"Sere Island has always been rich in ghost-type energy," they said, fingers curled around a large mug of sugary tea, "and other types as well. It surged recently: we expected to see a swarm of ghost-type pokémon migrating to the area, but they didn't arrive. In fact, we stopped seeing any wild pokémon at all. I kept in contact with the Regional Energetics surveyors…"

"I found the cave on the beach and visited it without incident," one of Tsukuyomi's students put in. "It was newly exposed by a small earthquake. There was nothing in it but stone and seawater, and I went back to the gym and told everyone. We were organizing an outing to look for fossils and crystallized energy when it happened."

"Did you summon the nosfearat? Did you do anything to lure it here?"

The pokémon rangers' questioning went on for a while, incisive, almost hostile questions that seemed to betray a prejudice on the rangers' part or a history on the gym leader's. Finally they moved on to Moriko, Russell, and Matt, and they gave their account of finding the town empty and being sent to sleep by the undocumented pokémon. The rangers avoided calling it a demon pokémon.

They were scolded for saying that "everyone" was gone when there were apparently unconscious or groggy people in the town in their houses, and then scolded for going into the empty buildings without permission. They nodded contritely through that speech, but Moriko felt her skin prickling angrily.

A third ranger approached them after that—it was Ranger-Captain Tanager, who had helped them in the aftermath of the forest fire caused by Dzalar, Matt's svarog.

Tanager whistled, looking at his pokédex and stowing it on his hip. "You three have a knack for attracting trouble, am I right?" He grinned. "Me included, this time."

"We're the victims of trouble," Matt said sharply. "Are you here to arrest us?"

"No, you're not—but I hope you'll give me five minutes of your time."

"Beginning now."

"Drop the tough guy act. You three have been in the thick of things this summer. It's been following you around. It would be very easy to conclude that you are the _origin_ of these difficulties rather than the victims, and many of my colleagues would make you head home and put you under surveillance."

Matt puffed up at that. Moriko elbowed him.

Tanager snorted. "But with the benefit of the full picture, I don't think it's you three. There have been other incidents."

Moriko felt cold. "What else?"

The ranger held up a hand; _not now._ "In fact, I don't want to restrict you to a city. I want you to go far away into the wild, so whatever is following you won't find you among children and the elderly and people without pokémon."

"…Nice reverse psychology," Matt said, after a shocked pause.

"But it's my duty to protect you, wherever you are." Captain Tanager smiled sadly. "I beg you, whatever you end up doing, to stay somewhere with good communication, where our reaction time is shorter than hours. For your own safety."

They nodded, subdued, and Captain Tanager passed them his direct pokédex contact info before leaving.

"So," Moriko said, "do we—"

"Trainers! A moment," Tsukuyomi called to them. "Thank you very much for your help," the gym leader said, bowing. They were merely middle-aged, despite the white hair, but they were unsteady after the hypnosis. They might have been put under the longest and been the worst-drained.

"Not at all—it was our pokémon," Moriko said, and shortly they were pushing Maia, Celeste and Sylvia forward—Vleridin required no prompting—to accept accolades from Tsukuyomi and their students, who were offering them potions and rare candies in thanks.

"I feel that this is not quite enough," Tsukuyomi said eventually, and they were holding out three badges.

It was the Oblivion Badge, two pillars and a lintel on a simplified landscape with night beyond them.

"We can't take this—we haven't fought—" Moriko said, shocked.

"It is well within my purview as a gym leader to give out badges as a reward for a service to the gym, especially one that involved pokémon battling, anyway." They smiled. "You've watched the trainer dramas, haven't you? The heroes get badges for any old reason."

"Yeah, due to writer laziness—ow!"

Russ took his weight off Matt's foot. "Thank you _very_ much," he said politely. "This is a privilege."

Tsukuyomi waved a hand. "My pokémon are still recovering, also," they said, " _and_ those of my seconds, so it will be some time before I do any serious battling. I may have to get a loan of pokémon from another ghost-type gym leader—I'll send Fantina and Dolorosa a message—"

"Are your pokémon okay? I've heard when pokémon are especially energy-drained…" Moriko asked hesitantly.

"No! They're safe! I didn't lose any of them. No, a killer ghost pokémon—or a demon—can drain a pokémon to death, you're right, but this one—well, it had a whole town, it was like a child running through an orchard. Taking single bites from apples, throwing them away, moving on to the next one..." Tsukuyomi shuddered delicately. "Disgusting, but to our benefit."

" _Did_ you do anything to attract the demon?" Matt said, flat.

" _Matt please stop being rude—"_

Tsukuyomi smiled sadly at Matt and raised their hands, where a couple of will-o-wisps were dancing.

It was easy to forget that ghost pokémon were closest to demons in aspect. They were traditionally feared; none could say whether they merely shared powers with legends about ghosts, or if they truly were undeparted spirits or corrupted ones.

"No. Did you?" Tsukuyomi asked Matt.

He got still, very still at the question.

Tsukuyomi smiled and put a finger to their lips, and went back to their mug of tea.

x.x.x.x.x

Sere Village was loud and bustling that evening: everyone wanted to re-live and re-discuss the same set of facts and hunt for new rumors, or to hide in their homes and try not to think too hard about what had happened to them and their neighbors. The place was crawling with pokémon rangers and police, and media from the mainland had already turned up.

Linden had rejoined her father and Professor Maple, who had flown over with the rangers, and they'd surrendered the nosfearat to Professor Maple with some relief.

Moriko, Russell, and Matt went to the beach. What they all wanted was a nap, but they'd be woken up in no time by rangers' boots tromping past the trainer dorm in the small pokémon center. The sky had opened up, but there were still thick clouds scudding by against the blue, and it was a bit chilly for swimming.

Moriko had spent all that time asleep, but it hadn't been restful. And yet she was possessed—ha—by a nervous energy. She couldn't sit and close her eyes before it would tell her to move again. She walked down the beach with the pokémon, who'd been healed and now needed a little exercise to dispel some of the grogginess. It did them some good to be out in the sea air, even Rufus, who found the closeness of the ocean oppressive, but they were shortly back in their pokéballs.

Thanasanian was frightened but had resolved to travel further, with more demons to report on. Vleridin was in better spirits, happy to be praised and mug for the camera, and Moriko watched as she fought a palaephin out in the breakers that dove back under and disappeared after a few exchanged attacks.

 _Palaephin, the bier pokémon. A ghost- and water-type, it was said to carry the souls of the dead into the west, where the sun sets. They often swim alongside ships and guard them against attack by other pokémon, but they are capricious and may attack, too._

Matt and Russ weren't far behind; Maia and Sauza were in the water, and Matt was on his pokédex while Russ threw stones and shells into the waves.

Moriko started to feel like she could sit down, but jumped when a girl approached her and sat down as well.

"Are you… from Sere Village?" she asked, awkward and not wanting to talk, but not wanting to snub the stranger.

The girl smiled; she was tall and pale, with gray-blue hair that covered her face in the sea wind.

"What did you find, there, under the earth?" the girl whispered.

Moriko wasn't sure she heard. "Sorry?"

"There is treasure there, underground, with the dead. We die and we go back to the earth, and all our riches, oh, there they are left," she said in a singsong voice. "Under the earth, there is treasure… Under the earth, there is screaming…"

Moriko got up, and the girl shot out her hand to grab her wrist, and it was freezing.

"Crimes leave a trace," the girl said, dreamily. "They leave blood. They leave ghosts."

Moriko stared.

"Look underground for their crimes," said the girl. "Look under the sea."

"…I need to go."

"Goodbye, earth's daughter… Look, will you?"

Moriko fairly raced away along the beach, her boots sinking in the sand.

Matt looked up at her. "Whew! Had a fright?"

Moriko shook her head. "I was talking to that girl—"

"What girl?"

"You didn't notice her? She said, gods, she said—"

Matt looked at her, his pokédex slack in his hands. "Moriko, I was… watching you for a while. You were alone."

Her expression changed as possibilities whisked through her mind, and she went with, "Matt, you're being an asshole again."

He sputtered. "No!—Not this time. You were looking at the ocean. There was no one there."

"You need to step up your game, Matt."

"You. Were. Alone."

"This is particularly assholish after all, after all _this_ —"

"Moriko, look, the beach is empty—"

"It curves, there are trees, she walked away—"

A palaephin leapt, far away in the waves, and it was gone.

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! There's an illustration for Nosfearat up on my tumblr/deviantart **gaiienpokedex**. Seanami was one of reader Julie's submitted fakemon a million years ago.


	22. Endure

**Changelog:** Chapter 32 of Gods and Demons. Minor edits for grammar and continuity.  


Chapter 20

 _The Wild Youth / Follow me if you can / Endure / Red threads of destiny all fallen to gray / Things cannot be reversed / You shall not lose_

 _—Aug 11th-16th, 128 CR_

In Port Brac they had cameras shoved in their faces again, and again they put the pokémon in front as the heroes. It wasn't enough: the media wanted a human face for clips and articles. Technology for recording pokémon speech existed, but it was for depositions and historians, not the daily news.

Once their faces were known, they were noticed in town, and people wanted selfies or stories. Offers came to buy them food or drink or lots of drinks, and Moriko declined, anxiety warring with hunger, and Matt declined with what looked like indifference.

Russ indulged, and often. More than once, he came back into the center slumped over Sylvia's back, the borfang dancing with worry. On the final occasion, when they helped him down his face was crusted from a fantastic nosebleed and beer vomit. Matt half-carried him to the showers, and then back to their room.

Moriko paced and worried and considered drinking herself, but in the morning she confronted him, blocking his shuffling path to the pokécenter cafeteria.

She looked at his gray face with dark circles under his eyes, and she forgot her script.

"Russ… are you _okay_?"

"Are we seriously doing this?" Russ scoffed. He squinted at the light. "I'm great and I'm having a great time. This is everything I wanted. I'm making some great memories this summer to go to school with."

"Like what?"

Russ swayed gently. "The point— _the point_ is, I'm having a great time, and you should be coming out too if you're so worried about missing out."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not, I'm worried about _you_ , coming back unconscious every time or nearly. You're scaring Sylvia. If you keep this up, we're going to have to take you to a clinic some night or morning." _Unless you_ want _to die in your bed or on a street corner somewhere_ , she thought, stomach roiling.

"Don't—you don't—don't hide behind this veneer of concern anymore, Moriko," he said, suddenly angry. "You, always worrying about how it'll look—this is _normal_. I'm normal. You're hiding. I'm sick of it, trying to keep me isolated all the time."

"Russ, _what_? What the hell are you talking about?"

He talked over her, gaining momentum. "I'm taking control, no more games. We'll go to Porphyry, and you better be ready for your gym battle—you get a day. After that, we're going to Sunset Mountain. Maybe even Sastruga Fjord! But it'll be my decision. Get it?" He was too loud, his gestures broad and comical; he was a pantomime manager, incompetent and blustery.

She should be laughing. Was it a joke? Was he talking to _her_ , really? But insight was swamped by hate, by a cold nothingness that went down and down and down.

Moriko felt her face settling into a familiar expression, one that she'd used many, many times at her aunt and uncle's house. "Yeah, I read you."

"Great!" he said, instantly pleased, thinking he'd won, that he'd cowed her. _Russ?_ "I'm going out soon. See you guys at dinner."

x.x.x.x.x

She tried to find anger, but it slipped through her fingers like minnows, down in the icy dark beneath her heart. Nothing mattered. This summer was insane, it had turned insane at every opportunity, and just when she'd grown used to it, it found a way to turn insane again.

Moriko looked in the mirror and saw her cuts and bruises and peeling skin and chipped fingernails. She looked into her orange eyes that she hoped people thought were genehan. And she cursed all those trainer dramas for making it all look so easy.

They made losing look easy, made the mishaps look cute. Hell, they made _being_ a winner look easy.

Fuck the cameras and the gawkers who had tainted their victories, made them cheap and fake and tawdry, made her anxious, made her doubt herself. All those victories eked out against bored gym leaders, who pulled out uncontrolled and dangerous pokémon just to see fear in a teenage challenger's eyes, or checked-out ones who tossed them a badge for a cut-off close match or a service to the gym.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

 _I won! I won and it was a triumph. Wasn't it?_

She had felt triumph, surely. Once. More than once. When?

Five badges. One more in Porphyry. And they were going to Sunset Mountain, said the man in charge. Her face creased into a familiar sneer as she thought it.

 _Something's wrong. Something's wrong with him and we shouldn't go on,_ she thought, but she was too tired.

x.x.x.x.x

"I admit I haven't known you guys that long," Matt said, "and I'm certainly in no position to criticize, but yes, that does sound pretty unlike him. I can't remember him saying a single unkind thing to me, even when I was… acting up."

Moriko nodded, slumped in the pokécenter lounge chair. "I thought he was better after his regen completed, and he could stop taking the drugs for it." She frowned. "He did stop, right?"

Matt shook his head. "I haven't noticed him taking them, but it's not like I'm watching him at every moment, right?"

She shrugged.

"He had something… big and horrible happen to him," Matt said, contemplative. "It takes time to work through. You know? Especially when there are confounding factors, like demons and shit."

She laughed hollowly. Demons and shit indeed. "I guess he just had regen a week or two ago, too. Full of hormones and stimulants."

"Actually, that's an urban myth—you usually feel tired after re—"

Russell lurched through the lounge doorway, kissing another boy quite enthusiastically. Matt made a choking noise.

Moriko stared. "Uh. Russ?"

"Little busy," he said, pausing for breath. "This is, uh—give me an hour, alright?"

"Yes?" she said, as Russ and his paramour wove out of the room toward the stairs.

"He—was he—was he always—" Matt sputtered.

Moriko looked at him. "Always what?"

Matt gestured helplessly. "He just—that guy—"

"Right? Like, he was too shy to ask anyone to grad but then—"

"No, I mean—that's good to know—I didn't realize he was gay."

"Oh, yeah. Why? Is that a problem?"

"No! No. No. I have to go," Matt said, and darted out to the cafeteria.

Maia followed him and looked back at Moriko, and then padded off too.

x.x.x.x.x

Russell returned to their shared room later, his color high and bright. Matt greeted him, a little uncertainly.

"Whew!" Russ said, sitting down on his bunk. "I've been missing out—"

Moriko watched him. _I should say something—it's none of my business_ — _why do I care—_

"Russ, you—you didn't even know that kid's _name_."

He cocked his head, good mood cooling. "Seriously? We're doing this? I didn't need to. Won't see him again. You're boring me."

She found the anger, and it flared up her sternum. _At Russ._ This was wrong, this was weird, he'd been in the hospital, they'd encountered _another_ demon pokémon—she needed to walk away—

She couldn't stop. "Russ, this is a port town, you don't know—did you even—"

Matt shrieked and fairly leapt out of the room.

Moriko sputtered. "For someone who's twenty-six you sure act thirteen, Matt!" she yelled down the hall after him. She turned around and saw Russell looking at her, an ugly sly expression on his face.

"You're not… jealous?" he purred.

Red in her vision, schoolyard taunts ringing in her ears. "Fuck you."

Russell smirked harder. "Well, if asked—"

"Shut up. Shut _up_. Don't—don't you even— _what is wrong with you_?"

"What's right?" he snapped. "A new perspective. Priorities in order."

"Russ, why—" she said helplessly.

His expression softened. "I'm sorry, obviously you find this weird, but this is—me. This is the me that isn't afraid. I don't have to be restrained anymore. The worst happened. What is embarrassment, what is rejection, what is disappointment compared to what happened to me? What if I died wondering what I missed?"

"Russ," she heard herself say, "I quit. I'm going home."

"No, you're not," he said. He got up, stretched. "I'm not. I'm finishing this league. Run if you're scared. Follow me if you can."

x.x.x.x.x

 _Follow me if you can_.

Russ's words whirled around in her head, seemed to leap out at her from text on her pokédex; the waves seemed to say "follow, follow" where they lapped at the shore; her footsteps said "if-you-can, if-you-can".

His words had left her staggering, bereft, and in the morning he smiled like nothing had even happened. How dare he? And yet it meant she could dismiss it; she, too, could join the lie and edit history…

 _Follow me if you can._

She thought of Prof. Willow, urging her to think about going home, and she thought of Captain Tanager begging them to put themselves under supervision. She remembered the reginant cave; she remembered Angela and her friends, Dave leaving them gravely wounded, and his traumatized pokémon surely a victim too.

 _Whose victim?_

She thought of the dead kids that Liona's brother had killed, urged to by false promises from demon pokémon. On Sere Island, an entire town, hypnotized and energy-drained to feed a dark power under stone.

The Black Queen and the Gray Prince: an old, old grudge and its collateral damage.

There were wars, hidden ones, relentless, fought by mystics and legendaries, and you could be drafted, press-ganged by one side or the other. Perhaps it was naïve to think that going back to a city was any guarantee of safety; Tanager had said as much and yet he had begged them to stay somewhere, stay safe.

Moriko looked at transport back to Port Littoral.

She was thinking about it seriously, thinking about announcing it to Russell and Matt. She found them in the cafeteria, but Linden Jr. and her father turned up too.

"It's me!" Linden Jr. said cheerfully.

Prof. Linden had the look of someone trying to be stern, but aware that he really wasn't in control of where the car was headed, and there were cliffs up ahead.

"Linden…" Moriko said.

"What, are you all chickening out? Going back home?" Linden Jr. asked. Her face fell as she looked at Moriko. "Wait, really? Come _on_!"

"You three are still traveling? After all that's happened?" Prof. Linden said, wary, tired.

"I'm going to Sunset Mountain by way of Porphyry," Russell said smoothly. "Matt is coming with me"—Matt shifted a little at that—"but Moriko…?"

Prof. Linden stepped forward, putting himself between Linden Jr. and the three trainers. "Astrid—"

"Shh!"

"—I don't think"—he whispered something—"two boys you've just met—"

"Dad, it's fine! They're cool! And Moriko is _going_!" Linden Jr. grabbed Moriko's hand and pulled her over. "Right?"

Moriko smiled sadly. "Why do you want to leave the expedition? Somewhere there's a grad student crying into a big stack of journal articles because they couldn't go with one of the professors."

"I've been on _five_ expeditions! They're all looking at chromatography and going 'oh yes look at this _literal shit_ '!"

"Middens actually tell us a lot about past cultures," Prof. Linden said, "what they eat, what diseases they had, what broke and how they replaced—"

Linden Jr. groaned expressively. "They found an undocumented pokémon! And we found another one on Sere Island together!"

"See, right now you're making arguments _against_ you going—"

Moriko watched Russ slowly grow bored with the discussion and pull out his pokédex. Matt was looking straight ahead, scratching Maia under the chin. Russ found something and got a sharp look on his face, turning his pokédex around so Moriko could see the photo.

It was an old one of a party in the tenth grade, with Angela and Dave and the rest all smiling for the camera, and Russ as well, they were playing a board game together—and Moriko was in the background, alone, looking at the TV. It was unflattering; she was slouching and looked angry, concentrating.

"Just like old times," Russell said lightly.

She found the anger; oh, she found it. It fell into her stomach and expanded outward, a fury that crackled in her spine and at the tips of her fingers, and she felt a wave of answering anger, green and wild. A memory— _whose?_ —of battles, of red blood and black ichor, of challengers smashed beneath her hooves—

 _Follow me if you can._

She heard herself as if from far away. "There's some time left in the summer," she said, interrupting the two Lindens. "I think we can get one more badge."

Linden Jr. shrieked, gleeful, as Russ closed his pokédex with a little smirk.

Moriko almost changed her mind again, looking at Prof. Linden's face. He put out a hand to touch her shoulder but dropped it.

"You've seen two pokémon that should not exist, this summer," Prof. Linden said quietly. "Aren't you afraid what the third is going to look like?"

Two demons at least, not counting the gray man and the red one, and whatever the woman in black was—

"It's not that far to Sunset Mountain," Matt said. "The road is better-traveled."

"Better-traveled than Sere Island, where the whole town nearly went under?" Prof. Linden barked, a dad voice, but he looked away and waved a hand. He was silent a moment. "Take the train," he said. "Fast, to Porphyry, and then up the north arm to Sunset Mountain. Then come home. I'll pay for it, for the four of you. Deal?"

"Deal," Russ said, and they shook on it, and Matt as well, and finally Moriko.

Prof. Linden pulled out a pokédex; Linden Jr. snatched it from his hand almost before it was out of his pocket.

"Call me," he said. " _Often_. Trust Abram, trust Betsy."

"Yes yes yes thank you thank you thank you!" Linden Jr. hugged her father, and then surprised Moriko by hugging her too. "This is going to be so great! Let's do this!"

Moriko watched Linden and wondered where her own joy had gone. Stolen; at every inch it had been stolen, by her family, by killer pokémon, by gym leaders playing too hard and too violent, by demons.

Five badges. One more in Porphyry. One more at the mountain.

She was tired. She was so tired.

You can't win by not playing, but you can sure stop losing.

x.x.x.x.x

Matt found her packing up her bags, and he didn't say anything for a while. She kept packing, waiting.

"Are you still going? Or leaving?" he asked, and she had to look because it was the most uncertain she'd ever heard him.

She blinked. "Does it matter?"

His eyes dropped. "Maia will miss you," he said, and the tibyss nudged him with her head and he staggered.

Moriko smiled, despite everything. "I will miss Maia."

Matt shrugged and petted Maia, not looking at Moriko. "What… uh, last night… what did Russ say to you after I—when you spoke to him?"

"About haring off with strangers? He—he said"—oh shades and terrors, she felt it like a needle—"he asked if I was jealous, and I just—it was just like all the shits at school—"

"Ah—"

"Matt, I've told him so much, he's seen—I told him everything so he could save it up and—at the worst moment, say the _worst_ thing—"

Matt smiled sadly. "That's how it goes."

"It is _not_ , that's not him—" _Isn't it? Isn't it?_ "It's _not_."

"He likes broken things, Moriko. He wants to take care of them. Hurt things. Like you."

Moriko's head whipped up and images flew behind her eyes: a runty sylpup, a scared dirfox, a hurt springbuck—

A weird half-second-crossing girl who no-one liked—

Moriko showed her teeth. "I wanted to kick you out of the group, Matt. He argued with me every time. What does that make you?"

Matt smiled—he didn't even have the decency to be stung—and raised his hands, a priest's gesture, proclaiming. "Can you guess?" He leaned forward. "We saw _him_ hurt, Moriko. We took care of _him_." His eyes flicked away. "I don't know if he'll forgive us."

Moriko stared at him.

"He might not be able to bear it. If it ends, if the group ends," Matt said, trembling, half to himself, "you have to be ready to go on your own—"

Go alone: go alone to Port Littoral, go back, leave these two to their mad summer—

—but Vleridin, but Liona, but Thana—

Leave them, leave them with Matt, leave them with Russ, take Rufus and Tarahn and go home—

Home—

Where _was_ home, really?

Not her aunt and uncle's. Not the house by the brook, long lost, where she'd met Tarahn. And… not Russ's house.

Her resolve wavered.

She remembered long summers with the wind a sickly body-temperature breath in their faces, and the cicadas all sawing away on tree trunks. She wanted to capture that feeling again, of idle holidays with nothing but joy ahead of her. She thought of dashing into the waves, the white sand swirling around her legs and the sun lancing off the water's surface; of biking in the city and ice cream on the boardwalk by the quay.

The pokémon had been happy, then, with junior trainer battles and rich environmental energy. She thought of Rufus baking in the sunlight and Tarahn out by the lighthouse, struck by lightning until he was giddy and laughing.

She thought of her friend, the shy boy who had been there, always been there, when she was too weird, too prickly— _still_ too weird, too prickly—for anyone to concern themselves with her.

And she thought of the man who had recalled all of those moments of weakness, all of those schoolyard taunts that had festered in her heart, all those moments of wanting and loss—he had heard them, seen them, woven them around his fist and struck her with them.

 _Follow me if you can._

It was spoiled, it was all spoiled, it was rotten at its heart, it could not be saved—

"Moriko," Maia said.

She looked up.

The tibyss towered over her, enormous, midnight-blue, her green eyes unexpectedly kind, and Maia bumped her shoulder with her nose. Moriko reached out to scratch her cheeks, as Matt had always done, and she purred.

"Moriko, you can come with _us_. Always," Maia said.

Moriko hugged her around her neck, like Matt. She felt him put a hand on her shoulder, shyly, and she pulled him into the hug, impulsive.

 _We will make it,_ she thought. _We will get through. I choose this. I choose to change it._

And she wondered at this kindness from the haughty, aloof man she'd regretted journeying with, and at the sudden cruelty of the one she would have named her best—only?—human friend. She wondered how many steps were left in this long, strange dance, and what would be at the end of it, where the mountain waited.

x.x.x.x.x

They took the train to Porphyry City.

A sleeper cabin for the four of them, spare and disinfectant-smelling, while steel clattered on rail below and the desert rushed by outside. No battles to be had in the cars, no large pokémon allowed out on the train; Vleridin lurked somewhere behind her sternum, watching the humans. A couple of steel-types in the conductor's cabin sensed the condition of the engine and the tracks ahead.

Wrong to skip the journey and opportunities to encounter wild pokémon, perhaps, but they'd seen enough of the desert.

Russ disappeared somewhere; there were TVs and computers, a restaurant car with packaged meals. He had the money to eat there, but Moriko had eaten her sack lunch from the pokémon center and was working on trail bars.

The sun went down, the sky turning pink and orange behind hills and stone pillars that slid past in the distance.

 _This is what I wanted,_ she thought. _The freedom of the road, the independence of the traveling trainer. The wild earth and a friend to see it with._

She thought of Russ and the glint in his eye, his voice grown brittle and impatient, and all her secrets held in his hands like knives.

"Moriko," Maia said. "Come sit with me."

She was crammed into Matt's bunk; Moriko wasn't sure how she could fit without phasing into the wall.

Moriko hesitated. It was an intimacy, and Maia wasn't her pokémon.

Maia looked at her, expectant, imperious.

She got down, clambered onto the bunk in her sock feet. She sat in the curve of her body, like Matt did.

"Scratch my cheek," Maia commanded, and she obeyed, feeling the short, velvety fur, and shortly the deep thrumming purr.

Moriko relaxed; it was soothing, and the tibyss angled her head here and there to direct her hands.

The door to the compartment snicked open and Matt stood in the entryway, and Moriko jerked back her hands, like she'd been caught.

"Continue," Maia said, watching Matt.

Moriko looked between them. "Are you sure?"

Matt was amused. "Stealing my pokémon, I see."

"I am quite stolen," Maia rumbled. "Sit with us."

"I'll go—"

"Please stay, Moriko."

Matt raised his eyebrows, but he pulled off his boots and sat down on the bunk beside her, stiffly.

Moriko sat with her hands in her lap, glancing between the two of them, and finally she shook herself. _I was invited._ She leaned back, as if Maia was a couch, and she draped her arms on her long body.

And Matt sat back as well, and he let his shoulder and hip touch hers.

"Enjoying yourself, bad cat?" Matt said, and he stroked Maia's long tail, his hands drifting over the fur and the orange fin, and she laughed.

"I am quite content," Maia said.

Moriko felt the tibyss purring and Matt beside her, not quite leaning on her, and it was… nice. Nicer than she expected. It was perhaps a little opportunistic, to accept the contact from someone she certainly wasn't interested in. She thought of all the times Matt had been nasty to her but they seemed far away, now, obliterated behind the enormity of the things they'd seen.

And he'd been kind to her lately, where Russ had been unexpectedly sharp, like glass at the beach.

Matt sighed, bowing his head. "What are you going to do after Sunset Mountain?"

Moriko glanced at him, his arms folded tight on his chest and his ankles crossed; she couldn't see his face, just his dark blue hair grown overlong.

"I'll go back to Port Littoral. Won't you?"

"We'll see. I'm guessing you won't live with your aunt and uncle again?"

"No. No, I don't think so. I could stay at Prof. Willow's for a while, I guess. Sleeping in that trainer dorm at the pokécenter isn't easy if you aren't completely exhausted." Moriko thought for a moment. "Did you really live with your parents in Port Littoral, Matt?"

He stirred and then shook his head. "No, they're in Johto. They're divorced. I lived in a subsidized apartment."

"How did you get that? Did your parents—"

"I lied to you, I can't lie to the government. When you look me up, you see my real age. I applied for it myself."

"Oh. Right."

"You're eighteen, though. You could apply."

Matt had pretended to be the same age as them… and it had felt right, he was a sarcastic know-it-all who would have fit in at school, endlessly bickering and sniping and correcting. But he was twenty-five or twenty-six years old. He should have gone to college already, or risen through the ranks at a business or whatever you did after school.

"I might have to go back to Johto," Matt said. " _She_ said I would need to… she would need to repeat that thing, whatever she did. Or it would be like how it was."

"You should come with us, Moriko," Maia said.

Moriko glanced at her. "Do you want me to?"

"You need a friend. He needs a friend; he doesn't have any human friends."

"I have lots of friends," Matt muttered. "I'm a _delight_."

"You were both friends with Russell," Maia said. "But… I think you will separate at the end of the summer. It's good to have allies, and you have the fewest obligations, Moriko. Come with us."

She felt the twist in her gut but she'd known, she'd known Russ would go to Kanto for school without her. She'd accepted it. This summer was the last great outing, with the enormity of the future in front of them. But there were cracks lancing back toward them, and she was afraid what would happen, what would be said when it all broke.

"Oh? And what can you offer me?" she said, trying to sound like she knew what she was doing.

"Whatever you want," Matt said, quietly, and she blushed, and she wasn't quite sure why.

Feeling reckless, Moriko shifted and dropped her arm around Matt's shoulders, and he gave a little sigh and put his head on her shoulder. She put her head on his and she felt Maia purring through her back.

"I'm so tired," Matt said suddenly. "I'm so tired of running."

Merciless, Moriko asked: "Who are you, Matt? Who is the woman? Why did you come here?"

She felt his breath catch; she felt his heart hammering, and he said nothing for a while.

"One summer's day," Matt said, "I left home with ten pokéballs and a packed lunch, and I would have gone home soggy and hungry and empty-handed if not for another trainer I met on the road. Sam taught me everything. She was my best friend, and the Gray Prince killed her." He reached up and scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of one hand.

It had not started in the desert: the Gray Prince had been with them the entire time, a shadow, a curse.

"I'm sorry, Matt," Moriko whispered.

"When he… takes something from you," Matt said eventually, his voice ragged, "it makes a link from you to him, and he can take your energy. The woman can try to break the link, narrow it. The woman is…" His hands worked, grasping; he let them fall. "She's some old mystic who hates him."

 _He's not sure. Maybe no-one is sure._

"The Gray Prince has popped up here and there over time, for decades, and she does too, and on and on and on until they kill each other or the world ends."

"Don't people _know_ about him? About her?"

He shrugged. "People help her sometimes. Elites, rangers. Ranger-pokémon, powerful ones. But he disappears again, for years, and she does too, I heard. He hurts people once in a while, kills rarely—he can't, he can't do this to anyone, you have to have something, some aptitude, and there has to be… opportunity. What's that compared to ancient pokémon? What's that compared to plain accidents? More people die ten meters from the trail in the woods, and we who are left don't die, we just… get faded."

"Why did you come to Gaiien?"

"I thought it would be safe. He came from here, out of an old legend—this was always one of the wilder regions, even during the second crossing's era. I thought he'd found all the old tombs that he robs to get energy, and he'd leave me alone, but he was here and necessarily the woman too."

"So—what, you thought you could have a nice normal gym circuit summer?"

Matt laughed, ruefully. "He—you're _valuable_ to him, when you're like this. A battery. You can't talk about it or tell anyone, and you can't do anything dangerous. And the definition of 'dangerous' can ratchet down very tightly if he senses that you're getting off-leash. I couldn't leave the house, sometimes. I thought if I finally, finally went out on a journey I could purge it. I wanted to talk to elders, maybe they'd seen this type of demon corruption before, maybe they'd know how to deal with it."

"The woman helped you, so easily. Why did you refuse that for so long?"

"I just… I hated her, for being so knowing and overbearing and secretive—"

"Like you?"

He coughed. "—I just… I don't trust her, she's been doing this for a hundred years, they say. She's so ineffective—what if she's in on it or something? I don't know… But it's happening anyway, I'll have to go sit in her stable in Johto like all the others who have to come when she calls, but aren't rich enough to fly in like Axel Richter and her girlfriend or whoever."

Moriko watched him. "Isn't it better than wandering all alone?"

"I will be alone," Matt said. "I will be alone with those other gray people in her crooked house, with her doctors and minders who know they can't do anything for us, just keep us comfortable and bored and ready to rush out after him when she wills it, with the league and the government not even needing to keep one more legend secret out of dozens and weirder ones happening all the time."

"Maybe she can teach me and Vleridin how to maintain the, the broken link," Moriko heard herself say. "And you can stay here with me, and we'll go to the dojo and the beach, and next summer we'll finish the gyms and go to the league."

And she heard him take a breath and she knew that he wanted that—he wanted anything but Johto—he wanted that very much.

"I wish this never happened," Matt said hoarsely. "I wish he'd never found us. I wish I could stop being sixteen. I wish Sam was still here. Sometimes"—he breathed, ragged—"sometimes I wish I'd died and not her. But then _she'd_ be here, suffering—"

Moriko shifted, and she sat up and put her arms around him, and he clutched at her like he was drowning. She didn't know what to say.

Matt got a hold of himself, pulled away. "She was always smarter than me. Maybe she'd have figured it out earlier." He smiled brokenly. "She wouldn't have been in this mess in the first place."

Moriko hated the demons all anew. They had been careful, they had avoided risk, and still demons had found them, dabbled in their lives, used them. All their plans, all their hopes and dreams— _mountains loomed over her, the dark trees like judges_ —all the demons' victims, all were casualties. _Tell me, trainer, that they might not be lost._

"It's not your fault—it's _his_. We'll do something," she said, furious, full of bravado. "This might be the time they finally do something," she added, more realistic, thinking of the pokémon rangers who'd interviewed them and their allusions to other incidents. "Maybe the trap is closing."

x.x.x.x.x

In the morning, Russ was in a good mood and invited Moriko and Matt to the restaurant car. Moriko contemplated refusing, but her pride was bludgeoned into silence by her empty stomach.

They were enjoying the food, breakfast items coming to them on a cart pushed down the central isle, when a dissonant keening filled the car.

They looked around at each other, at other passengers all looking around at them, and finally someone pulled out their pokédex. Then they all did, and the sound grew tenfold.

On every screen flashed block letters and the gyarados-head emblem of the Pan-Regional Elemental Defense.

 _ANCIENT POKÉMON SIGHTED 50°23′N 149°44′W…EVACUATION ORDER 50 KM…PREPARATION ORDER 250 KM…AVOID COASTS…GET TO HIGH GROUND…STAY WITH POKÉMON…OBEY RANGER AND PRED INSTRUCTIONS_

"Holy fuck," Russ said.

Matt stared at the screen, his pokédex loose in his hand. Moriko tried to call up the map—what on earth did those coordinates really mean—but the wi-fi on the train was at a crawl as everyone in the car—hell, everyone in the region—with a pokédex had the same idea.

"It's out in the sea," someone said from across the aisle, loudly. Everyone was speaking too loud, making too-sudden gestures.

The train conductor's voice came over the PA system, wobbling a little as she went off-script: they would be going on to Porphyry since it was not within the prep zone, but everyone should make plans to leave or take shelter further inland. The daikaiju was out in the northern Lacuna Sea, and it was likely the next few days would be chaotic.

"The Elite Four will take care of it," Moriko said. When it finally loaded, the red marker was blinking above the cluster of islands where the elite tournament was held at Thalassa Heights. "It's practically in their backyard, and they're there gearing up for the tournament in September."

"I'm sure it's fine," Russ said, paging through the PRED website and its logs of previous ancient pokémon sightings and neutralizations. "This is actually kind of exciting. When was the last one? I think we were in middle school."

"There was an ancient avalugg in Timau last year," Matt said quietly. "Almost nobody out there, though. They got on their boats and got well out of the way. Rangers just watched it on drones and satellite until it fell apart."

Russ snapped his fingers. "I remember that, there was a live stream of it from a ranger corsair, and the world's dumbest people were leaving comments at every time of day about _catching_ it before someone else did."

"You laugh, but that's what they used to try to do. There's a photo of a giant pokéball they tried to use once," Matt said.

"…That's CGI. That's not real, it's a meme."

"Want to bet?"

They laughed about it, but Moriko found herself scrolling more and more urgently through the PRED website and finally had to turn off her pokédex. All that destruction, and the wild, lurching traces of the ancient pokémon's paths… this wouldn't be over for days, and it could cover hundreds of kilometers.

When Russ got up, moving down the aisle to speak with a worried-looking family, she glanced at Matt and saw him looking drawn and pale.

"…Hey," she said. "You're not in danger. We'll leave Porphyry as soon as possible."

Matt nodded, miserably, like he was thinking about vomiting, but a little color came back into his face. "Not until you get that badge," he said, a little of his old self back in the smirk, in the challenge.

"If I can."

"You will."

She smiled. "You're really warming up to this supportive friend thing."

"Glad you think so. It's different."

"You should give me your fruit cup, friend, to seal the deal."

Matt put on an air of genteel horror, holding the plastic cup with his little finger extended. "Too much, sera, you ask too much." He downed it in one go.

"That's a talent. I see a future for you in certain entertainments—ow!" she yelped, as Matt kicked her boot harmlessly.

The other passengers were calm, especially after some of the train staff moved through the cars with practiced assurances. The sense of wariness and high energy still grated on a few little kids, who had to cry as a stress reliever, and the three of them finished their meals hastily and moved to the entertainment car.

There were news programs and analysts on every screen, and clusters of passengers around each one. Matt and Russ moved to one TV that seemed to be playing the same four seconds of drone footage on a loop while experts' portraits cycled in the corner. Pokémon professors, ranger-captains, and miscellaneous analysts offered tidbits of information.

It was impossible to tell what the species was, only that it was huge and had tripped monitoring buoys for pokémon energy aura and wave height, among others: in the drone footage, a huge surf swell and churning multiple weather effects masked its identity.

" _The aura analysis will tell us more,_ " said Prof. Aspen III over video phone. " _Giant elementals are accompanied by a large eruption of natural energy, so the type and identity cannot be immediately determined by raw sensor readings—"_

The news chewed it over for a while before switching briefly to historical ancient pokémon footage: the Timau avalugg, an ancient golem in the deep mountains north of Kanto and Johto, an ancient vespiquen that had spawned millions of confused and dying combee.

Moriko vaguely remembered the golem from middle school; it had been terribly exciting at the time, a disaster thousands of kilometers away and ripe for feats of heroism. She didn't feel eager now, quite the opposite.

"I _told_ you, dude," Russ said, pointing to an old photo of a car-sized pokéball that Silph Co. scientists had developed to try to contain an ancient haunter.

"You sure did," Matt said dryly.

 _Have you seen an ancient pokémon before, Vleridin?_ Moriko asked, while Matt and Russ and some other watchers laughed together and heckled the TV news.

The mooskeg had been a quiet passenger this trip, and she didn't answer immediately.

 _My parent's sire was from a northern herd, and she saw a giant upon the sea when she went out journeying. It was as tall as a mountain and wreathed with clouds and lightning, but it stank like sulfur and dead things, and in its wake it left unclean energy that people following behind nevertheless feasted upon._

 _She did not remain to see what became of those who ate._

Later, the news churning the same talking points, Russ approached her with a puzzled look on his face.

"Mor, have you seen Celeste?"

"No—why? Is she not in her pokéball?"

"It's empty," Russ said, flicking it open and exposing the mirror-bright interior briefly.

Moriko felt cold. "She can't—I guess she could be hiding—"

Celeste had grown near to adult size in weeks, as pokémon tended to do. She couldn't hide on the train unless she had phased into matter or was flitting about as energy, and the latter tended to attract attention. Moriko tried to think of a good hiding place for a light- or dark-type—a steel- or virtual-type would have no problem in machinery, but she wasn't sure where to find a nook in shadow or natural light.

 _Vleridin, have you seen Celeste?_

 _No; I of course blame no one for escaping a pokéball—awful things, gritty and noisy—but… I can't say I saw her leave._

The three of them turned on their pokédex radar apps and walked from end to end of the train, together and then opposing to try to trap a hidden pokémon between them, but aside from a passenger's aquilux there were no light-type readings to be seen.

"When did you notice she was gone?" Matt asked.

"She was in her pokéball during that last heal in Port Brac," Russ said, calling up the log on his pokédex as proof. "After that, I'm not sure. I told everyone to try to sleep for a couple of days, there wouldn't be any room to let them out."

"That happens sometimes, pokémon aren't happy and they just leave. Not your fault," Matt said.

Russ frowned sadly. "She could've said." He shook himself. "That was a weird situation anyway, sending someone off with an egg and hoping it would work out when it hatched. Guess it didn't."

Russ and Matt headed back to the entertainment car and Moriko followed, intending to split off at their sleeper cabin.

Celeste was… odd. She seemed to know things that she shouldn't, not at her age. Pokémon were precocious out of the shell, but she seemed to know more, much more. And in battle… she'd used high-level attacks, some kind of light-type attack on the Wandering Fire that had devastated it and nearly defeated it. And a high-level one on the nosfearat, genesis lance, that was near the end of the light-type attack tree. There were odd readings when they turned the pokédex on her, fluctuations and stat glitches.

 _Vleridin… what_ is _Celeste?_

 _You don't_ know _?_

Vleridin was silent for a few moments. _She is… I suspect, what we call an old-soul. An egg has a major parent, always, and one minor parent or several. Only those of substantial power can make an egg, and not often. It is easier to contribute a little toward someone's egg, and the young may get a little of your power._

She stopped, and Moriko could feel her step carefully around some topic, a queasy mix of fear and anticipation radiating outward from behind her sternum. _I have heard that it is possible to… make an egg with only one parent. But it takes too much, you would need to be old, old and powerful, and you would… there would not be much left of you, afterward. The thinking is, you put everything into the egg, and you come back young._

 _You're reborn? You could be immortal!_

 _Everyone would do it if it were that easy. It takes… power. A lot of power. It takes decades to get that old, that powerful. A century. Or you can do it, fast, the other way, if you're not mad at the end of it. And then… you're not the same, coming out of the shell._

 _Her mother—her previous self—she killed people?_

A mental shrug. _Her old herd might know, might have heard rumors, might still be resentful of her power if she ruled them as eldest._

Moriko didn't know; she supposed she could email the farmer family who'd given them Celeste's egg and ask them.

She opened the door to their sleeper cabin and stopped, shocked.

"Linden. What the fuck."

Russ and Matt turned around at her voice.

Linden had a locked ball on her cot, the black and red shell stark on the white sheets, and in her hands… in her _hands_ like a pet—

It was the paraslit.

It squeaked, seeing them, and it dove at Linden's neck, and they all yelled and reached for pokéballs. But it just huddled under her jacket collar, antennae quivering as it peeped sadly.

"Lindenwhatdidyou _do_?" tumbled out of Moriko's mouth as she stared at the ID tag and warning stickers on the locked ball.

"I can explain—I have—my dad gave it."

Russ: "What the _fuck_ —"

"You stole it," Moriko said, "you stole it from—why would—after everything—"

"I didn't _steal_ it," Linden said, the picture of the indignant 14-year-old.

"Then why—"

"Uh, it's an experiment? My dad gave me them—"

" _Them_?"

"You have the nosfearat." Matt swayed, clutched at the cabin doorframe. "I need an adult," he muttered.

" _You're_ the adult," Moriko snapped.

"Linden," Russell said, and they all fell silent at the bite in it. "Why are they here?"

Linden was sheet-pale except for a couple of high, bright spots of color. "They can't train all alone. They can't use sources. They can only steal. So, what if they didn't have to?"

Moriko watched her guarding the bug, sitting up, putting herself between them and the pokémon. She felt sick, she thought of the caves, she tasted blood again, blood and grit, and she thought of Russ, dying, drained—and the darkwater, it had a smell, how had she not noticed, it had a smell—

She grabbed at the door frame too, head spinning.

"What in the _ever-loving fuck_ is that supposed to mean?" Russ was demanding.

"If they could live like a regular pokémon, wouldn't they? But they can only live off human energy."

"So what? Do you think you're making a deal with a vampire? The human doesn't get anything out of it—"

"No! What? No, I mean, it's"—she grabbed Abram's pokéball and held it out. "We make a deal with them. They battle and they get stronger, we bond and we share energy and they _really_ get stronger. You make a connection with them and it works. You know? What if they could do it, too? They wouldn't have to—"

"I'm calling your dad when we get to Porphyry," Russell said tightly. "Go home."

"Go ahead!" Linden said angrily. "My dad gave me them—"

"He wouldn't let you go with us yesterday!" Russ shouted, and Moriko jumped and shrank away. "You had to beg him! And somewhere in there he gave you dangerous and illegal pokémon?"

"I told you, it's—"

Russ whirled, stalking off, and Matt whistled quietly.

"You fucked up," he said, and followed Russ.

Moriko watched them go, and looked back at Linden, whose face was pink and blotchy, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. The paraslit squeaked sadly.

" _You_ are not forgiven," she said sternly to the parasite pokémon. "Linden, please, keep them in the locked balls. This train is full of people and I don't know the right way to—if the paraslit—"

"It _won't._ "

"Linden—" Moriko said desperately, "Russ hasn't been the same since he was attacked, okay? It was bad. He went to the hospital. Please protect these people. I gave Prof. Maple the paraslit to protect people—and to protect it," she added, lying. _Whatever it took._ "It's going to be destroyed when the rangers find it. If the professors have it they can study it."

"I can study it. I can control it. They don't—I have—"

" _Please_ , Linden."

Linden sighed loudly, hurt, huffy, but she recalled the paraslit. She stuffed the pokéballs back into an inner pocket of her jacket, and Moriko nodded.

"Come on," she said, "come with us to the TV car. Did you get the PRED notification in here?"

"The what? I was sleeping."

"Have you never done an ancient pokémon drill in—Hoenn, or wherever? There's one north of Thalassa Heights."

"Are you serious? Yes! Yes!" Linden cheered, punching the air, good humor instantly returned. "I knew this trip was going to be worth it!"

x.x.x.x.x

They stood in Porphyry again, as they had a thousand years ago at the beginning of July. The air was even thicker and more humid, the bustle of the train station loud and driving them into a distant corner to get their bags in order.

Celeste was gone—disappeared, here at the city of her birth. Russell had already forgotten about her, it seemed.

The city was no different, but they were.

Vleridin reformed gratefully after the days on the train, impatient, and Moriko smiled, seeing her mossy coat and long legs and her antlers wreathed in waterweeds like a crown.

And she thought of what she did to a wild mooskeg a little less than a thousand years ago.

"Your forest is near," Moriko said. There was a rushing in her ears. She swallowed. "Do you want to go back there?"

Vleridin got still, considering this. People and pokémon went by, normal activity despite the ancient pokémon warnings.

"Show me the map again," the mooskeg said.

Moriko obeyed, pulling up the display on her pokédex: here was the city in brown, a polyhedron on the coastline, and little dots for villages north and west on the Lacuna Sea. She scrolled a little, calling up the river delta where she'd found Vleridin.

Weeks ago. Eons ago.

"Make it small. Show me more. More."

And Moriko zoomed the map out until they were looking at the whole world and all of its regions drawn out in blue and green and dark lines.

Vleridin sighed, a bellows sound in the bulk of her chest, and she raised her head to look out over the city, to look through it. "I knew every path and stone and stream in those woods, and I knew all the young pokémon who lived there, and of them I ranked myself strongest, or near enough, and if strangers or ronin came I knew what to do and who would fight at my side and who might kill me if they could. And one summer's day you stole me away, and showed me how strong strangers could be and how small my life was, and I wished for nothing more urgently than to be made more, to try to fill up that vast space.

"You showed me strange things, indeed, in barely a moon's turning, Moriko. My old home will be waiting for me—it scarcely changed in all the time I was there. I will be different, and maybe I will yet regret that. That there might be so many courses that I might choose one and see so much and yet wonder what lay down another road—I could not have imagined this. That there might be strange and beautiful people from distant lands, that I might see hundreds of them and test them and not fear death—I could not have imagined this.

"And so I might go back, someday. But today there's so much to see."

Moriko wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry for our—my bad beginning. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad I'm seeing these things with you."

The mooskeg shifted, the broad muscles at her neck and shoulders moving, and she looked up the hill, with its stone buildings, and Moriko wondered what she was seeing under energy-sight.

"This is where you lost to that gym leader? The vile one?"

"Yes. I was… embarrassed. Matt and Russell both won. It made me desperate." Moriko swallowed nervously, remembering what ugliness—her ugliness—that desperation had inspired.

Vleridin whuffed quietly and touched Moriko's cheek with her nose. "You shall not lose again."

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! Illustrations of Linden Jr. and of Lord Ironhelm are up on **gaiienpokedex**.


	23. Songs for Monster Girls

**Changelog:** Gods and Demons Chapter 33. Added a poké-POV scene at the beginning.

 **A/N:** This chapter has a bit more sexual content than those preceding, though still a solid T rating. I promise that there is some character stuff and monster battles in between all the **TENDER. FEELINGS.**

Chapter 21

 _Watch Me / Lovers that went wrong_ _ _/_ _ _She will be dead and merciless__ / Songs for monster girls / Gross smooching stuff ___/_ if you're gonna get made, don't be afraid of what you learn_

 _—Aug. 17th, 128 CR_

"Not leaving after all, mooskeg?"

Vleridin wrinkled her nose at the smoke streaming off the svarog, darkening the air and fouling it. The boar pokémon rooted idly with her blackened tusks, exposing a capsule buried for entertainment in the pokémon center yard.

"Who said I was leaving?"

"Let us speak plainly. I remember how you fought with your human, back then."

"She's not my human," Vleridin snapped, automatically. "Spying on me, were you?"

Dzalar the svarog laughed gruffly. "'Spying' sounds like it required effort. There may have been a few people at the bottom of the sea who didn't hear you yelling."

"Are _you_ leaving? Are you trying to ask for company?"

"Oh, certainly not. I don't see why you would think so; I have found my human quite amicable."

"I seem to recall you fighting quite a bit. A day's run of forest burned in all directions. No?"

"That wasn't me. Out of flame, I was reborn."

Vleridin snorted. "That's a neat trick. Are you absolved of what you did before? Who did you eat, svarog?"

Flames danced in Dzalar's eyes. "No-one who mattered. We killed it together, and my family wanted to let it go to waste. I love them, but they are foolish."

"How much of the soul did you eat?" Vleridin asked, calculating. "I don't _think_ you're mad, but madness can be elusive."

"As much as I could, which wasn't much, I now realize—I imagined it would make me a giant. It made me greater than my siblings and my parent, but they could not have imagined how powerful people are, out here, with humans."

Vleridin laughed quietly. "Yes, yes indeed. Be careful in those woods, svarog. You kept your sanity, but left an angry ghost."

Dzalar looked at her, the embers on her burned body glowing and falling, winking away into nothing before they touched the ground. "Where did you leave _your_ ghosts, mooskeg?"

x.x.x.x.x

"Nah, I think you should do this one on your own," Russell said to Moriko. "I'll be busy tonight, too, so see you in the morning tomorrow. Get it right this time, you get one chance before we head out."

"Russ—this—with strangers—" Moriko choked out, but Russ cut her off with a gesture.

She whirled and stalked out of the center, Linden following and casting confused glances between them.

Matt's heart pounded suddenly as Russ loomed over him, watching him, sizing him up, eyes half-lidded and a knowing smile on his face.

Loomed? Really? It was a loom on a technicality, that Russ was taller, but he really couldn't achieve a good one with that slouch and stick arms and twig legs.

And yet, and yet, Russell had oozed up to him with a sudden fluidity, and he had a different look, a different way of holding himself.

"You should try it," Russ was saying. "Come with me down to the bars tonight. Cut loose for once in your life."

Matt felt the emotions cross his face one after another and Russell's smile grew even more pleased—pleased at what, at his discomfort? Was that like him?—and he tried to put on a worldly, clever expression as well.

"Maybe," Matt said. "Let's see how it goes. What time?"

x.x.x.x.x

"How does it work, with humans?" Maia asked, dragging her claws through cardboard scavenged from behind the pokémon center. "Does he have an egg, and he's looking? Do _you_ have an egg?" She looked him over appraisingly. "I don't see the energy on you, but I guess humans are different."

Matt screamed quietly.

"And why are you distressed about it?" Maia left her boxes and put her broad tiger's head on Matt's chest as he lay on the dorm cot. "Can he _make_ you accept his energy? Is his parent more powerful than yours, so you have to accept him exclusively? You're stronger than him, and I'll beat his pokémon. You can have as many suitors as you like for your egg."

"I don't have an egg," Matt mumbled.

"Oh, it's just for fun, then? It's nice to mingle energy like that, but there can be a lot of feelings involved, so be careful."

Matt sighed and scratched Maia's cheeks, and she whuffed as he ran his fingers through her short, dense fur and stroked the long fin-tines on her jaw. She rumbled and stretched out on the floor, her tongue on her fur a steady rasp.

Matt stared at the ceiling, thinking about… eggs. It had been a long time since he'd wanted to do anything like that. The gray man's hold on his energy—whatever energy humans had that he could take, biochemical, electrical, some kind of nebulous soul-energy—had left him nothing, had left him a paper shell on glassy bones, wandering from task to task in an endless succession of gray days.

It had taken everything he had to just go outside, shower, get out of bed, to complete the suddenly impossible actions that made up a goal as basic as "go to the store". It had wrecked him for weeks to accomplish "go to Gaiien" or "defy magical enslavement". Where was that on a fucking—ha _ha_ —hierarchy of needs? There was nothing left. It had been years since he'd watched racy—or more-than-racy—videos on his pokédex like when he was a teenager.

It had crossed his mind that it might be awkward to journey with Moriko, all those weeks ago, but he'd felt nothing then. And he'd seen her—they'd all seen each other covered in mud and road dust, or reeking in sweaty clothes that probably ruined the pay washers they went into at the end of the week. Their guts had all rumbled ominously, in harmony, on one memorable occasion after bad pokécenter cafeteria food. The dubious intimacy of travel had pushed them together and only confirmed his lack of attraction or desire.

Even after the woman in black had shielded his link with the Gray Prince, broken away a few layers of that nothingness and let a little light in, he still—well, now he _was_ thinking about it, finally.

Russell had changed after his experience, possessed by a demon pokémon, energetically as well as physically, scarred, wounded. He was sharper, angrier, taking the lead instead of hanging back and letting Moriko do what she wanted; still letting her stumble through her mistakes, but giving her grief over them. It seemed logical that a brush with mortality would give Russ better clarity, better purpose.

Matt wasn't sure, though, that that was enough to explain the way that the gawky teenager he'd started journeying with in Port Littoral, all stretched-out-too-far angles and awkward walk, had developed that gliding panther's pace and calculating stare, that barely-restrained sense of amused boredom. Something had changed about the set of his face, about the glint of his gray eyes—shit, shit, he was thinking about his fucking eye color, even.

He was a wreck, a screaming wreck thinking about that absurdly skinny person, about leaning up, far up, to kiss someone—Sam had been taller than him, but—

And thinking about Sam, the grayness slammed down and left him gasping, and all the familiar elements intruded: rain, mud, blood, the ozone smell of pokémon battles, dead pokémon dissolving into sparkling motes, the gray man's laughter. The suddenness, the pure vivisecting clarity of it, still, after _years_ ; it brought tears to his eyes. He drew a shaky breath.

Maia nudged his face with her broad nose, breaking his reverie, and he stroked her fur, staring at nothing.

x.x.x.x.x

Linden glanced back at the pokémon center doors. "When did things get all weird with you guys?"

"Russ is"—Moriko's eyes flicked over Linden's trainer belt, looking for the red-and-black pokéballs that weren't there—"acting strange lately. Picking up strangers in clubs and stuff."

"Oh. You like him."

"Linden! He's my friend—"

"That's a yes."

" _Linden_ —"

"Pro tip: don't worry about all that gross smooching stuff," Linden said authoritatively. "It's boring. It's so boring. Oh my god it's boring. Only one thing is worth worrying about: po-kay-mon."

"I just—"

"Pokémon."

"Linden, you—"

"Pokémon. You're re-challenging the gym leader, what's your plan? Gonna use your oxhaust?"

Moriko snorted. "She used a varanitor and a tentacruel against me last time, so—"

"Yeah, she might use the same ones again, symbolic and shit. Your oberant and mooskeg are no good—"

"Rude," Vleridin put in from behind them somewhere.

"—want to borrow Abram? He'll take care of whatever she's got."

Moriko found herself smiling at Linden's enthusiasm in spite of her interruptions and flippant attitude. "I said I wouldn't boost any more on this journey. Made it feel weird."

"Suit yourself. Do you want an audience? Otherwise I'mma hit up the tourists at the quay, check this out—" Linden made herself look wide-eyed and credulous. "'Wow, I can't believe I'm in Porphyry City! Hey mister, want to have a battle?'"

"That was spectacularly unconvincing."

"Eh, I have time to practice."

Moriko watched Linden go, and half wanted to call her back.

The poison-type gym was empty; there was no lineup for the signup sheet with impromptu battles to budge. A rest day today, maybe. She couldn't remember the day of the week.

She saw the steps and the arena below, her mind whirling with memory: the sight of Tarahn drowning under sand; Belladonna's pokémon, fey and wild; rage at her own helplessness and the useless referee. She swayed at the top of the steps.

 _I can't do this._ Russell's taunts cracked across her awareness, but it wasn't enough. She felt sick.

She turned and saw Belladonna.

The gym leader was walking along with her professional-model pokédex out, scanning something, humming to herself. She looked up.

Belladonna noticed her, recognized her, her eyes glinting poison-green, and she smiled—or rather, she showed her teeth.

"Cousin!" she said cheerfully. "Come again so soon! Here for another try?"

Moriko felt something stir under her heart, tasted cut grass and coppery blood on her tongue.

"Yes," she said. "At tier seven." Her belt had five badges pinned to it, and a space where a missing one should have been.

Belladonna clapped her hands together. "Oh, cousin, you are in for a treat!" And she frowned suddenly, putting her head on the side. She lunged uncomfortably close to Moriko, and finally drew in a breath, smelling her.

Moriko jerked back. "Stop."

Belladonna threw her head back and laughed uproariously. "Oh my dear, you've come so far! You have come. So. Far. I knew it, I knew it, looking at you! We _are_ cousins, oh we two, catseyed and bright-crowned!" Belladonna looked Moriko in the eye. "Will you tell me? Who, who is your soul-heart?"

Vleridin caught up at last, hooves clacking on the stone, and put her huge head over Moriko's shoulder.

"So, this is the person you lost to," she said, and drew in an exaggerated breath that mussed Belladonna's hair. "Ach, crawling with venom."

Belladonna laughed again. "I see, I see, I smelled her on you, cousin Moriko—oh! For our challenge, let us face one another, soul to soul!"

Moriko blinked, all of her careful planning falling away with a clatter. "You want—what?"

"She is your soul-heart, and she will fight mine."

"You—you have—no. No. Can you even—no, you must have a poison-type, so you'd have a type advantage. No."

Belladonna twirled away, gesturing dramatically. "It's not even about _types_ anymore! It's about will, it's about heart and bone and liver and lungs! Oh, just—regardless of the outcome, I'll give you the badge. There's no winning or losing, there's just the burn of new power in your veins and the smell of blood! It is better than anything, I promise you!"

Moriko recoiled from the naked hunger in Belladonna's face. "Don't you dare throw me that badge for nothing, for pity," she spat.

"Were you this prideful when you were here last, cousin? Oh, my dear, it is a _service_ to me! I have fought a thousand battles and given away hundreds of badges, but nothing, nothing is as good as when we adepts meet at last."

Moriko was already deciding to walk away, but she looked at Vleridin, who was watching the gym leader, calculating.

"What are you saying?" asked Vleridin. "I've participated in several battles since we had our… accident, but they were no different than usual."

"It's different, it's totally different—you, we—we all fight _together_. Watch! Watch, cousin!"

A wine-colored light bloomed at Belladonna's collarbone, and it bled over her body as her shape changed, was drawn in and blown out, and suddenly the woman was gone and in her place stood a crocodile pokémon in teal and ultramarine, with a mouth that stretched back grotesquely through its body.

 _Grendile, the glutton pokémon. A poison- and dragon-type, it evolves from goredile near level 50. It is one of the rare pokémon that does regularly consume matter for energy. It will gorge itself on anything it can find_ _—animals, vegetation, occasionally other pokémon_ _—and then sleep for months buried in the river mud._

Moriko stared at Belladonna—at the grendile, as its mouth opened and a grotesque tongue snaked out and licked its own eye.

"Ah," Vleridin said. "Do you want to do this?"

"What, we… fight like that? I have to let you take over? Like that time on the water?"

"There's no letting, there's just being," grendile-Belladonna said, its voice the grendile's, deep and raspy. "From two: one heart, one thought, one breath, one will."

 _Yes_ , Moriko thought, her heart pounding. That day, surfing. One sight: the device falling; one will: catch it; two souls: one form.

 _And our will today?_ Vleridin said to her silently.

 _To fight_ , Moriko thought. _To win. To kick her ass,_ and she could see double, and green flooded in from everywhere.

"See? See?" grendile-Belladonna croaked, and it oozed down the stairs into the arena.

Vleridin-Moriko saw the arena under energy sight: scarred by battle, with little tidbits of a dozen energy types dotting the walls, and broad swathes of poison-type energy still seething on the arena floor. They moved down the steps, hesitantly at first, and then trotting to take the opposite corner.

The grendile started an attack, leisurely, toxic froth bubbling from between its teeth, and Vleridin-Moriko stiffened. But it was to power up the arena systems: the shield triggered, sensing the high-level attack, and it shimmered as it domed and enclosed the arena.

Grendile-Belladonna laughed. "Ready when you are."

They were tall, and strong, and fast—Vleridin-Moriko seized water, summoned it in a great flood from somewhere beneath the sand, and it shot out in jets and geysers until they twisted them together and shot them at the gym leader.

Grendile-Belladonna grunted, taking the attacks, and replied with a sludge bomb, the purple clot arcing out of its jaws and exploding. It hit the arena floor, spattering them with poison that they diluted with water sport.

 _Part-dragon-type,_ Moriko said.

 _Bah, it's not about types anymore, remember?_

"I live in the water, too, darling," the grendile rasped. Water flooded into the arena, swirling with sand and shortly with sludge and poison goo. "Can you see me in the murk? Can you see your death?"

They snarled and rose on the water, and shot forward to try a stomp—the direct approach. Grendile-Belladonna rolled to the side and summoned a surf attack, and in the crash of waves it floated briefly, as if bored.

"Come little calf… I can hear your heartbeat. Try to hide…"

Vleridin vibrated with rage, and she said tightly, and then rolling, "Do you hear my hooves, little hatchling? Every step I grow closer. I see you there, fool dragon. I will smash your eggs. I will crush your bones. I will leave your guts swirling in the mud. Find somewhere to hide, little wisp, before someone drinks you up."

The grendile chuckled, cruising in the water. It looped back and opened its mouth and filth spewed out, purple and brown and toxic. Vleridin-Moriko used the water to shove themselves out of the way, to shed the drops of poison that caught them and burned their hide, working into them in a spiderweb of pain.

But the pain was far away: it lacked the immediate blinding feeling of a jarred limb or the sting of the razor; it was the ache of a cramp, and it was annoying. Moriko saw Belladonna's grinning face and the rage followed, not overtaking but propelling, and they bellowed a battle-cry.

They threw up roots, thorny and grasping, to swipe at the grendile's limbs, but it belched poison and the bindings fell away. Vleridin-Moriko snarled, summoning more water and hurling it into the air in huge waves to crash down on grendile-Belladonna, but it slithered and tumbled out of the way, finally leaping out of the water to slap them with a poison tail even as they stood on their jet.

Furious, they summoned nature power, the confused scraps of energy left over in the arena shuddering to life in a whirling rainbow—they tasted poison, ground, acid, psychic, steel, ghost—and they struck the grendile, shimmering, and it growled.

"Hah! I remember some of those hits," grendile-Belladonna said, "and some of them _I_ made."

It vomited up a toxic attack that they diluted with another flood of water—that it shot through, tail lashing, to clamp its jaws on them in a powered-up poison fang attack. They howled, pushing it away with the water, pushing themselves away.

Black ichor welled, bleeding, and Moriko shuddered, trying not to look at it—

 _This? You're worried about this?_

 _There's so much—_

 _This is nothing! Stay with me!_

The poison burned on them, slipped stinging fingers under their hide; it ran in their veins like fire and ice. Their blood ran into the water, mingling with the muck. The grendile had resisted their elemental attacks, its hide faintly scratched by thorns.

 _We're dying…_

 _Human child, you have never been dying! You have scarcely been_ inconvenienced!

 _Vleridin, we're losing!_

 _There's no losing!_ she replied. _We're getting stronger! Win, lose, it doesn't matter! Take all the hollow victories you like; defeated, I will still look down on you!_

Moriko thought of the tentacruel, of her useless fury, and she felt the terrible roil of shame in her gut, vivid still—

 _That won't happen! I'm here, I'm in control. What's a little blood? How many times have we cheated death? This is nothing! Watch me, Moriko!_

Vleridin summoned vines—thornvines, bristling with butcher's-knife thorns, and lashed her opponent with them. It snapped at the vines, poison flying off its teeth. She fired off a hydro pump attack that went over grendile-Belladonna's head and burst, sizzling, on the arena shielding.

Grendile-Belladonna laughed, wet and croaking. "You lose something as a pokémon, don't you? It's all wild haymakers and your strongest attacks going rogue. Only an adept can master the beast."

Vleridin-Moriko panted, ichor dripping out of the big gash on their side, but it was far away, far away.

Moriko thought of Vleridin's first battle with her, pierced at the throat by the ignitrice's beak—uncooperative, combative, and, impossibly, still there when Moriko awoke. They had lived through demons and legendaries; the mooskeg had charged in to save her from ghosts. They'd shared bodies, ensouled one another.

They were together, despite everything.

 _Help me, Vleridin._

"How do you feel about that, grendile," Moriko said, "being mastered?"

It grunted, growling low, and opened its mouth—it opened and opened, past its forelegs, and the huge tongue snaked out, covered in acid.

 _One last move,_ Moriko thought. _Belladonna_ does _like to see her beasts eating._

Vleridin-Moriko darted forward, the water sport a meager barrier against the acid lick—and they leapt into the grendile's jaws.

They were too tall even for that prodigious maw, and it writhed as they pinched its lower jaw under the ferocious pressure of their hooves. They fired roots down its gullet. It inhaled water and its limbs flailed, splashing uselessly.

They shot it full of water and it bulged grotesquely, gurgling, choking on the vines, and then finally it spat up a tangled mess of poison and acid and withering thornvine onto them.

They staggered away, bleeding, covered in poison. Vleridin's legs shook.

"That's—that's enough, I think," came Belladonna's voice.

Vision tearing, they fell apart, gasping. Moriko scrabbled out and over the wall, kicking off her shoes.

"The acid!" she said, panicked.

"You're fine! You're fine!" Vleridin called, and finally just shot Moriko with water, gently. Pretty gently, anyway.

"Vleridin! Vleridin! Stop!"

Belladonna cackled at the two of them, her grendile rolling around in the mess of sludge and sand and rapidly-draining water.

Moriko sighed, dripping—good thing pokédexes were waterproof—and pulled out a potion for the mooskeg.

She watched warily as the gym leader approached, but Belladonna merely pressed the badge into her hand.

"Welcome, cousin, welcome," she said, and kissed her on both cheeks.

Moriko shook her head, but she clutched the badge all the same. She shuddered, her whole body bright and tingling, as if with fever.

Belladonna grinned at her. "It always takes you strong, your first time. Come have tea with me."

x.x.x.x.x

"Going ho-o-ome," Belladonna repeated, taunting. "Come now, the summer not yet over and you, so close to the seventh badge? You are so close to that last stop, cousin."

Moriko stirred the tea, feeling better for its warmth and sugar. "Did you hear about the demon pokémon?"

"Myiaslice! And viratriol! Things out of legend. I'd like to go south and look for one of my own," Belladonna said, with a fey look in her eyes.

"We found them—"

"You? Are you—"

"—and this… person, this woman with white hair and black clothes had to save us."

"The Black Queen?" Belladonna deflated, the manic energy dissolving out of her all at once. For once, she looked normal, like a regular woman with a nice genehan instead of a half-second-crossing wildwoman slavering for a fight. "You… should stay away from her."

"That's what I've heard."

Belladonna waved the coffee carafe. "No, like, really. If she's been around, you should go. Yeah, you all _should_ go home. Something big's going down."

"Do you know about her? What's the deal?"

"She's… trouble. She is trouble, she finds trouble, trouble finds her. We haven't had an earthquake in a while, or a hurricane…"

"Really? She controls the weather?"

Belladonna ignored her. "Fuck, the daikaiju turned up yesterday, of course…"

"She controls the ancient pokémon?"

"Weird people show up in the wake of daikaiju. There are currents in ambient energy, and they throw up weird stuff on the shoals. Mystics, half-cracked veteran trainers looking for the next big thing, cults that want the daikaiju to end it all. She's… not the weirdest, but probably the most dangerous."

"What's she done?"

Belladonna shrugged. "She… look, she has all those pokémon, all those _ensouled_ pokémon," she said, looking out at the sea. "She has, what, eight or nine? That's… look, do you know why the official team size is six?"

"Reasons?"

You could enter a team of six pokémon into league matches; smaller ones were set by the participants or the gym leader: ones, twos, threes, doubles, triples, melee exhibition matches. Rangers and police would sometimes enforce the six-carry rule in towns for safety and on suspicion of theft; trade brokers could get an exemption as they sought out meetings for pokémon looking for new trainers.

"The adepts of the first people, they… six was the limit. You could push yourself to seven—heroes had seven in the stories, sometimes—but it would fall apart. And to fight past six faints? A feat for the singers. You would bleed for real from that many blows; that much energy would shred your veins." Belladonna looked at her narrowly. "But now anyone can do it, any child. Anyway. A nod to the old system.

"And she, the old woman herself, she has _nine_. How does she _live_?"

Moriko thought of the woman in black, a century old with all the color drained out, her smooth face with hair framing it straight and severe, and eyes, other eyes crowding her sockets.

"Not well, I think," Moriko heard herself say.

Belladonna shook her head, sipped from the mug. "I'll tell you what _I_ think. Did you hear any of them speak?"

"They… I didn't see all of them. The charizard listened and nodded along sometimes."

"They're dead," Belladonna said. "They were other trainers' pokémon, pokémon who died for their trainers one by one before the Gray Prince got to them. They died, and _she_ took up their energy."

Moriko stared at her.

"Humans can't metabolize that energy. She just made them part of herself, part of her collection. That's how she has more than six: they're shades of the pokémon that were, and she puts on their guises, puppeteers their shadows. It's why she can't beat the other one."

"Do you _know_ that?"

"An adept, a true adept with six pokémon could do it, even if he is a legendary." Belladonna looked at her sidelong. "You should see what you're capable of, sometime. If you could handle three, the schools would accept you, in the old days."

"How do _you_ know all this? I never learned this, no one taught me about energy until a wild pokémon showed up to do it, or that there are legendaries wandering around in human form but the gym leaders and pokémon profs all know about it—"

"What's with that 'you'? Look, being a gym leader isn't all battles and badges, there's a degree of, community involvement, right?" Belladonna shoved the coffee carafe back into the machine with a clatter. "I train other poison-type specialists and regular local kids or whatever, and I help safeguard the city, and I need to know about all the weird shit—Unusual Occurrences is the fuckin' chapter title, okay?—that could go down. Ronin, ancient pokémon, legendaries, pokémon mystics, the most famous of whom is the Black Queen and the legendary pokémon she's pursuing, the Gray Prince.

"This shit doesn't get publicized because regular people need to stay the fuck away from them, and frankly, we've only been here a hundred years, this shit is still getting written down. All this used to be secrets written on literal scrolls, scrolls written in codes that the last readers died without passing on, stuff that maybe some of the first people still know but after what the third crossing did to them? They—rightly—said 'haha, figure it out, we did, we paid for it in blood'. And now we're paying." Belladonna stopped, panting a little. "You're half—how do _you_ not know?"

"She died," Moriko actually managed to say. "She never…"

Belladonna looked like she wanted to say something, so Moriko went on.

"The red one—I heard he kills people in clubs, in bars all the time, picks up hitchhikers—"

"You met the Wandering Fire too? You told somebody, right?" Belladonna twirled a stylus, half-listening, as Moriko rattled off the professors at the dig back in Port Brac. "Okay. Okay. The rangers are probably here already for the daikaiju. Shit, we need Nocturna to do her fuckin' job…"

"So, what, what should we do?"

" _You_ and your buddies need to go home and keep your pokédexes turned on and your pokémon ready for whatever's coming. _I'm_ going to find out what the adults are doing and why they haven't sent me a fuckin' IM yet. If those cape-wearing idiots are shutting me out again—"

"You're not one of the adults?"

"Shhhh. I walked into that. Go home, cousin."

x.x.x.x.x

Russell took Matt to a club and in the dimness and haze from smoke and other drugs their faded traveling clothes didn't matter. He danced with several people, girls and boys and individuals of mysterious gender, but it was perfunctory; he felt Russ's attention on him the entire night.

Plenty of people there were better-looking: curvy girls with low-cut tops, tall girls with rock climbers' arms, handsome dark guys, people covered in genehan tattoos wearing too-small shirts that left nothing to the imagination, but he couldn't get interested; his thoughts slid off like oil, his eyes slid off his partners' faces, looking for a scarecrow watching him like a hunter.

They tumbled out a back door to get some air, and Russ kissed him. And Matt could barely breathe, he could barely see, his whole world shrunk down to just the feeling of Russ's mouth on his and the burning, flushed feeling of his skin as he clutched at him, like he could sink into his flesh just by holding close enough.

"Please—" he heard himself saying—begging—and Russ laughed, he laughed like Sam had laughed, in pure delight that he would do anything, and oh he would, he absolutely—

"You were waiting all day, so patient," Russ said, vaguely taunting in a way that just made it worse. "Not so patient," he added, shooing Matt's hands away from his belt. "Let's go somewhere better than a club alleyway."

x.x.x.x.x

Matt crept into the dorm, long after midnight, and found Moriko still awake, browsing on her pokédex.

"You're up late," he whispered.

"How did it go? Pick up some girl?" Moriko said back.

Matt sat down on his cot and let the silence stretch out. "No," he said eventually. "I picked up Russ."

"What? Oh. _Oh_."

Matt waited for her to say anything else. "Are you mad?"

"No," she said, finally, like she was surprised. Moriko looked at him. "You seem better."

"Yeah. I needed it. Just to… touch somebody, really, more than the getting off part."

Moriko snorted, but she looked pensive from what he could see in the blue glow of the pokédex.

"Did you win?"

Moriko shrugged. "I got the badge. Belladonna wanted to fight me while I was… ensouling Vleridin. She had her own pokémon that she turned into. We beat on each other for a while, and she gave me the badge."

Matt watched her, expecting to see the mooskeg looking back at him or the thread of some dark power, but it was just the same thin girl with a raggedy self-done haircut rather than the cautionary tale of the wannabe adept lost to possession.

And he thought of Maia suffusing his body, shielding him, making him strong, making him as swift as water. There was something to it. So why the warnings?

"What did it feel like? To get… hurt, to get burned? Poisoned?"

"It wasn't… It was like… when you have a good pokémon battle and everyone tries so hard, and, I guess, a little bit of your energy goes to your pokémon to make them stronger. So you're tired too. This was like that, but… more. A lot more," she said, wonder creeping into her voice. "And I felt it, every attack, every blow. But it was… far away, and it just made me angry. Those huge hits, gashes that blood was pouring out of… I didn't even… Vleridin didn't even care. It was survivable, and so…"

"What pokémon was Belladonna?"

"A grendile."

Matt smiled despite himself, thinking of Belladonna's wild laugh from that day they'd fought, and thought of unchecked hunger of a grendile—yes. Yes, he could see it.

"How does Vleridin feel?"

"I'm not sure. I think this is what she felt back in Russet Town. That inspired her to come with us, despite the… rocky start. I don't know. Maybe it's too much. I already…"

"You want to do it again?"

"Yes." Moriko looked at him slyly. "Do you?"

Matt coughed. "Yes."

She looked away. "Good," she said. "I hope it works out."

"Moriko," he said, "you and Russ—"

"We're _friends_ ," she barked, and then put a hand over her mouth, too loud in the dorm. "We're friends _._ And that's all I've ever wanted, despite all the rumors to the contrary. He knew, we both knew he was gay since middle school."

"Sometimes... you know someone's not available, you know it, but even so—"

Moriko crossed her arms, annoyed. "That's stupid, Matt."

He kicked off his boots. "It's been a long trip. Maybe you need it too," Matt heard himself say. "Just to touch somebody."

She gave him a sideways glance. "Are you offering?"

"Yes."

And she looked surprised at that, like she wasn't actually expecting it, and she shook her head. Matt shrugged, and turned, and pushed off his trousers—whew, those needed to be washed—and his shirt. He'd wear his laundry shirt for bed—

He heard a shift of fabric and he didn't turn around—

He felt Moriko behind him, a breath on his back, and he thought of Sam for a moment, but she'd been taller than him, taller than Moriko.

She put her hands on his waist, chastely, for the space of a breath and then drew forward, hugging him. She put her chin on his shoulder and sighed.

"You smell _awful_ ," she said, and he laughed at that.

He leaned back onto her, and he put his hands on hers for a moment, and he tried to remember what it had been like when Sam had last touched him a thousand years ago. An unutterable distance between now and then, a perfect moment suspended in time before a fall, a fall that he had never recovered from, that would haunt him all his days no matter what doctors or mystics could attempt on him.

He couldn't deny that it had been easier with Russ, he hadn't been constantly comparing him to someone long gone. He felt Moriko's hands—wiry, nails bitten—and thought of Sam's, and of Russ's, and of the novelty of people being kind to him—against all odds, wholly undeserving, that anyone would be kind to him.

It was still a wonder. He did his best not to deserve it, again and again, like a disease, like a curse.

"I don't want to give you the wrong idea," Moriko said. "This is me being… opportunistic."

"I know," he said. "Me too."

"Oh really? Russ alone not enough for you?"

He laughed. "I told you, I'm offering a service, here. Whatever you want."

"Anything?"

"Well… I mean, there are people sleeping over there, but if that's your thing…"

"How little you think of me," she said dryly. She sighed. "I keep waiting for you to say something cutting. Are you going to?"

"I might… if I could think of something."

"Can you be good?"

"I hope so," he said, and he turned and she kissed him. He didn't laugh, but it was clumsy; trying it out on him, he suspected.

Her eyes glinted in the darkness as they had in the firelight at the beginning of summer: catseyes, the mark they couldn't hide. He'd pressed her then about her family, about the second crossing, too suddenly certain that he'd found all the answers. She knew as little as him, and he had scorned her for it rather than trying to recruit her.

Well, he'd always been a damn fool.

"Lie down," she said, imperious, and he thought—unfair, unfair—of another girl he'd permit anything for, do anything for. "On your side."

And he did, quite obediently, and he shifted over when she pushed on him. She slipped onto the cot behind him, and she found his hand and laced their fingers. He felt her breath on his neck as she snugged up close, and it wasn't enough, it would never be, but it was a long sight better than it had been.

x.x.x.x.x

In the morning, nothing had changed.

"You smell like Matt," Vleridin said.

"We, uh, slept in the same bed."

"Why?" She added, "Did he have an egg?"

Moriko snorted. "No, no eggs."

Vleridin shook herself, and Moriko leaned away from the yawing antlers.

"Don't mingle energy just for fun," Vleridin said, her eyes and mouth hard as she stared out at the city. "It's a good way to get killed. You don't know who you can really trust in that moment."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nothing to say. She tried to get the jump on me. I won."

Moriko watched her, the moment stretching out, glassy, near breaking.

 _Who? When? What did you do?_

To be in energy form, confronted with an enemy—nothing was worse, Moriko had gathered. There was still so much she didn't know about Vleridin, about the paths she'd walked in the wild.

"Fair's fair," the mooskeg said, distant, and Moriko was afraid to ask.

"Anyway, we didn't... it was just…"—Moriko reddened—"cuddling. Seemed like a good idea at 4 AM."

Vleridin looked at her, appraising. "If it's just a body thing," she said, "then put Tarahn in your bed."

Moriko laughed. "When he was level thirty we could do that, but at fifty he takes up the whole cot. Rufus is made of metal, and you and Liona and Thana, we're not well-acquainted enough."

"We're plenty well-acquainted," Vleridin said. She paused and then snorted. " _We've_ mingled energy, by most reckoning," she said.

Moriko sputtered. _See me live all your weird fantasies, internet._

"I'll come in and you can sleep on me if you want," Vleridin was saying.

"I—"

"Just no moving around and no noises; no talking, especially."

"Oh, good deal," Moriko said, but she leaned on Vleridin's shoulder and scratched her mossy hide. "Thanks for your help at the gym yesterday. I still can't believe—I knew pokémon were tougher than humans, but—"

"Were you hurt?" Vleridin's head whipped around and she nosed Moriko's shirt. "Did the wounds come through on you?"

"No," Moriko said, reluctantly. "They stayed on your body. I'm sorry, it's—"

"No! No, it's perfect. Humans take ages to heal a scratch. This is exactly what we should be doing."

"Vleridin, you—it's not fair that you should be so hurt and I don't suffer—"

"You felt the blows. You were with me. You don't need to suffer for it to matter. My wounds last only moments before I'm healed in an instant in your machines. I told you: I want to see the furthest places of the earth. With you I can go there, I can perceive more color, distance. I can _see_ , Moriko. With you I can fly. With me you are powerful, you will never tire, you will never bleed. Say that you will stay with me, Moriko. Say that this summer will never end."

Moriko watched the mooskeg. Vleridin's gaze was far away, and Moriko wondered if she was thinking of other summers, long ago.

Moriko stroked Vleridin's jaw and drew close to look her in the eye. "The summer will always end," she heard herself say. "But I will stay with you through to the next one and the next, if you'll have me."

The mooskeg sighed and bumped her forehead. "Yes," she said.

Moriko breathed in, smelling Vleridin's musky deer scent and the swampy water-weed odor that overlaid it. "I liked what you said about there being no losing. We're strong, and we'll get stronger every day. Are you ready?"

"Ha! Always. Are you?"

Moriko grinned. "I'll try to keep up."

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! An illustration of Moriko and Belladonna's rematch is up on my deviantart/tumblr, **gaiienpokedex**. Moriko and Belladonna will probably need to have another rematch sometime. :) I've also reblogged some MEGA SICK fanart from Negrek and StellarWind, thanks y'all!


	24. Down in Darkness We Found What We Fear

**Changelog:** Gods and Demons Chapter 34. Added a poké-POV section at the beginning and another scene in the middle.

Our pokémon casts have gotten real unwieldy, so here's an inelegant summary as we head into the last few chapters. Illustrations for our main characters and all these fakemon and their evolutionary lines can be found on my tumblr/deviantart **gaiienpokedex**. I should probably make a wiki or something:

 **Moriko Sato** \- _Rufus_ (Oxhaust, fire/steel minotaur), _Tarahn_ (Raigar, poison/electric cougar), _Liona_ (Nigriff, dark/fighting griffin), _Vleridin_ (Mooskeg, water/grass moose), _Thanasanian_ (Oberant, fairy/bug anthro moth)

 **Russell Scott** \- _Sylvia_ (Borfang, grass/dragon wolf dragon), _Conall_ (Dirfox, psychic/ground swift fox), _Celeste_ (Celestiule, light/dark mule) [CURRENTLY MISSING], _Keigan_ (Springbuck, fairy/flying antelope), _Sauza_ (Geysard, fire/water iguana)

 **Matthew Reyes** - _Maia_ (Tibyss, water/ice panther), _Bjorn_ (Ursaring), _Takktktkk_ (Honchkrow), _Dzalar_ (Svarog, fire/grass boar), _Sai_ (Dragoon, dragon baboon)

Chapter 22  


 _Cold Air / Down in darkness we found what we fear / Long ago the land lay covered in forest, where dwelled the spirits of the gods_

 _—August 18th-25th, 128 CR_

Tarahn pressed the release on Thanasanian's pokéball and got it to work after a couple tries.

The oberant reformed in red light, looking around the room. "Is something wrong?"

"We're going out flying! Do you wanna come with us?" the raigar asked brightly.

"Ah, in the city? It is very... crowded..." she said, rubbing her forelegs together over and over.

"It's okay if you don't want to," Tarahn said. "You'd be with us in a group so you don't have to be worried."

"I should... I should rest. For the next battle," Thana said, and hopped back into her ball.

Tarahn flipped his tail, the bells jangling, and he went out into the yard where Sylvia, Liona, and Keigan were waiting.

"She said no," the raigar told them. "Are you coming, Maia?"

"No, thank you. I've got the best spot under the tree, and I'm not giving it up."

"As if anyone would refuse if you asked for it," Tarahn said, admiring.

Maia laughed quietly.

Tarahn hopped onto Sylvia's back, carefully not using his claws, and settled in between her wings.

"Let's go!" the borfang called, and hopped into the air with a flap of her wings and a burst of wind energy.

The human city and its buildings dwindled in size below them, until it was as small as a leaf covered in ants. Tarahn whooped, accidentally pressing his claws into Sylvia's wings, but it was on her wooden scales and didn't really hurt.

"They really are fascinating creatures," Keigan said, as they angled over the ocean. "What's the point of all their houses? Why the bigger and smaller ones?"

"Sometimes they share them," Sylvia explained. "Some of them aren't for living in, they're where humans go if they get sick, or if they need to get food."

"I suppose I have seen animals in caves and so on," the springbuck allowed. "It must make them feel safe."

"A cave is a good defensive position," Liona said. "No-one can sneak up on you. But you can't get away, either. I don't think I'd want to be surprised in a human house."

The three of them dove and turned loops in the sky, manipulating air-type energy. Tarahn yowled happily, hanging on and encircled by Sylvia's vines. Sylvia and Liona practiced their techniques, wing attack and wind slash and others, commenting on the shape and use of the energy. Keigan fired off wind blasts and tried a cyclone attack, but it still needed work, the wind whirling and then dissipating early. Tarahn offered to hit them with a thunder wave so they could practice shaking it off, but the three flying pokemon declined.

"Save that one for on the ground, please," the nigriff told him.

"Alright, but I think it's—whoa!" Tarahn yowled suddenly, fur standing up on his back. "Who did that? Air pressure just _dropped_ , you trying to do a tempest attack?"

"Not I, my feline friend—" Keigan began.

"Dive!" Sylvia barked, and the three of them folded their wings, Tarahn yelling in consternation.

Even hitting the edge of it, the burst of turbulence sent them all tumbling. Sylvia, Liona, and Keigan descended rapidly after righting themselves.

"Merciful powers, but I could taste the ice in that!" Keigan yelled.

"You're telling me," Sylvia said, shivering. "Where was that from?"

"North by northwest, but what's over there? There's nothing but ocean."

"Moriko and the others were scared, back on the train," Liona said. "There was something coming down out of the north, the human elders were telling them." The nigriff looked out over the sea. "Something terrible."

"I'm cold," Tarahn whined. "I want to see Rufus."

x.x.x.x.x

Linden was missing.

She still had the demon pokémon; she'd kept them hidden in her clothing and hadn't let them out in view of her three companions. Russ had demanded that she transfer them back to Prof. Linden and Prof. Maple, with a severity that had surprised them all. It had inspired Abram the metagross to discourage further outbursts by standing casually nearby Linden at all times, phasing through walls when necessary.

Russ had called Prof. Linden and left furious voicemails to no reply, and finally he started ignoring her outright. Annoyed and sulky, Linden had gone out and not returned.

Moriko went to call Prof. Linden several times, but her fingers stopped above the keys, paralyzed. Where was Linden Jr.? She'd talked about pretending to be a junior trainer to hustle tourists down at the pier, so maybe that's where she was, and she was having such a good time that she hadn't checked in with them. For two days.

Had she turned around and rode the train back to Port Brac? Why, then, there was no reason to call! But Prof. Linden had given them money for the train to Sunset Mountain, and maybe he'd take it back if Linden wasn't with them.

And Moriko contemplated calling Prof. Linden and begging him to take it back anyway, because then they'd have to go home to Port Littoral.

A day in Porphyry, Russ had said—but he'd changed his mind, lingering, battling at the dojos, going to clubs, dragging Matt off when he felt like it.

All around them the city was tense. The ancient pokémon was still far to the north, north of Thalassa Heights and north of the Sisters, multiple days' ferry ride away, but the sea had grown rough and unpredictable. The pier—where _was_ Linden?—was closed off by striped barriers patrolled by police and pokémon while the sudden and asynchronous swells washed the boards.

The water receded several times, sending everyone scattering to avoid a tsunami that didn't come, and the rangers were furious: people would stop reacting if that kept up, and get swept away by a real one. The irregular waves knocked berthed boats together, and harbor workers and their pokémon were scrambling to find their owners or just moving them out to sea where they could ride harmlessly.

Tourists and traveling trainers stood around in worried knots, watching the livestreams and body-cam footage from the rangers and pokémon that were attempting to fight the ancient pokémon. Better recordings had revealed its species: it was a giant whiscash, riddled with decay and shimmering with chemical rot, whooping mournfully in a tsunami-siren voice.

Weather effects, indistinguishable from the real thing, obscured the cameras and made the audio useless: sheeting rain and lightning, black thunderheads, seemingly-graceful waterspouts, waves the size of tumbling apartment blocks. Area attacks like whirlpool and hailstones whirled around the daikaiju, little inconveniences in the arena blown up to Charybdis size and danger.

There were dozens of pokémon attacking it: swooping rangers' pokémon dropping parasite mines; S-tier pokémon firing off attacks at maximum power, slow and ponderous and searing moves that a child could have sidestepped but the giant didn't notice; spinning missiles with drill heads that burrowed deep inside the monster before exploding. There were legendary pokémon—two mewtwo and a suicune—using attacks that made the aura readings on the footage peak out of scale.

The thing didn't react, not to plant-type energy screaming green across its flanks, not to tree-sized roots with thorns like swords piercing its hide, not to liquid oxygen or acid lobbed into its mouth and eyes. It swam on.

Flights out of Porphyry were full.

There were fewer stalls on the streets and the ones that were there were quiet, their proprietors' eyes glued to their phones or pokédexes instead of potential customers. People were huddled around screens in bars and coffee shops, drinks forgotten and tepid, and they spoke urgently in low voices or yelled for silence at a new clip or segment.

Russ was bored, obtuse, pushing past the knots of worried trainers.

"Let's get out of here. We can leave tomorrow with these tickets," he proposed, showing them the website.

Moriko's eyes nearly fell out at the price. The company was gouging them. There were laws that limited the multiplier in the midst of natural disasters, but it still obliterated their fairly generous stipend from Prof. Linden.

"Let's just keep the old ones," Matt said. "We'll have money left over for the return journey, meals—"

Russ nearly growled. "This place is useless—no one wants to battle, they're all obsessed with the ancient pokémon. Let's just move on."

"To be frank, I don't think we should. We don't have the levels."

"Oh, whatever—we can train in the gym town. Nothing happening around here," Russ said, gesturing around at the streets, devoid of mid-level pokémon battling.

"Sunset Village is even smaller than Umber, and that was a sleepy place. Honestly, we're at the bottom of tier six, we've been rushing around, we got the last badge as a courtesy—"

Moriko spoke up. "Russ, I think we should go home. Let's put the continent between us and the ancient pokémon—"

"Running again?" Russ drawled. "I see this is becoming a theme."

She frowned. "Yes? Running from ancient pokémon is what one _does_ —"

Russell whirled, speaking too loudly. "I'm tired of your cowardice, Moriko. We can't be afraid of a little risk, and here you are whining at every turn. Are you a trainer or not?"

Her jaw worked. "Russ, you… you've been acting weird. _Really_ weird, since Sere Island."

"Russ…" Matt said, staring.

"Oh, are you on her side?"

"Russ—that's not—"

"Tell you what," Russell said, "we'll fight it out. Sylvia!"

He tossed her pokéball down, but she materialized with her tail down and wings folded, looking between them.

"Russ, we can't—we can't have a high level battle in the street—" Moriko said, shocked. She looked around wildly for a ranger or a police officer and then stopped, her stomach twisting. Gods, as if they hadn't run in with rangers enough on this journey—

"Who cares? Choose your pokémon, or I'll have Sylvia remind you to," he snapped, like a rival in a trainer drama.

"Russ, are you serious—"

Sylvia laughed but looked back at him nervously, her wings unfolding and then drawing down again. "What?"

"Don't battle him," Matt said quietly.

"I know!" Of course she wouldn't battle, of course she couldn't use a high-level pokémon without shielding. And yet…

She found herself wondering what she had done wrong, what she had done to lead Russ to act like this, and wondering what she could possibly say to fix it.

She knew she couldn't.

And beyond that thought lay anger, that Russ had at long last revealed that he too would tease and taunt and belittle her, openly, publicly, too many times to forget. She felt an electric pulse of rage at her heart, at her throat, at the corners of her eyes, at her brow like a crown.

She let Rufus' pokéball fall from her fingers.

Rufus stood, his flames licking in the wind, a thin trail of smoke leaving his pipes. He was as uncertain as Sylvia, who couldn't help holding herself in readiness at the appearance of an opponent, but she looked at him, beseeching, needing this confrontation to make sense.

He turned back to look at Moriko, and all her anger evaporated when she saw his gentle eyes, points of light in the steel.

"Rootbind, Sylvia!" Russ yelled.

That attracted the attention of passerby, who started pulling out their pokédexes, and then recoiling and moving well away. She'd destroy the street at her level. Rufus would melt it.

Sylvia looked at them, her tail dropping, and she glanced back at Russ. "What's this about?"

"Just use physical attacks, then! Body slam!"

The borfang flinched, wanting to use the move—well trained, well trained—but the whole thing was wrong, and she knew it. They all knew it.

"Use—" Moriko said, reflexively, and she bit off the rest of the sentence.

Sylvia and Rufus looked at each other for a long moment, silent below the sound of an onlooker very audibly on the phone with pokémon ranger dispatch, and they both turned around to face their trainers.

Moriko looked up at the oxhaust's massive face, wreathed in pipes and crowned with fire, and she held his hand, touched the soft hide under the scorched metal.

"We can't battle here, Moriko," Rufus said.

"I know," she said, the fight gone out of her. "We shouldn't battle him anywhere."

"Good."

Sylvia was ignoring Russ's commands, putting her body between him and them, herding him away.

"Sylvia! Listen to me!" Russ leapt onto her back and tried to pull her around.

"You need a nap," Sylvia said, trotting away toward the pokémon center.

Russ seemed to wrestle with her briefly, but the borfang was far stronger. Moriko was relieved to see that he even now didn't stoop to trying to hit or kick her, not that he could possibly hurt a high-level pokémon with his fists, but…

She walked away, and Russ dwindled in size, seated backwards between Sylvia's shoulders. "We're leaving tomorrow!" he shouted.

Moriko shook herself, disgusted. How many times was she going to let him hurt her like this? Over and over and every time it was just as bad, it was like a knife—

She jumped; it was just Matt putting his hand on her shoulder, and he backed off.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go to the caf. We need a break."

x.x.x.x.x

They found a corner in the mall food court and used the pokémon center vouchers on bad bento and hot tea, with Tarahn and Maia providing moral support and low-key begging.

Several of the shops were shuttered. Noise spilled out of a restaurant where more screens had the same news channels and the same footage on loop. There was one playing the kids' channel, where colorful pokémon wearing scarves were asking the audience to point out the hidden zorua character. A horrible fountain in the center with a statue in bronze of a cascade of fish and dead-eyed children stood silently, powered off and drained.

"He's not the same, Matt. The drinking, the fights, the sleeping with strangers—"

"He can do what he wants," he said, pushing the uneaten umeboshi around the wreckage of his lunch. "I wouldn't go around telling people who and how much they should fuck—"

"Matt! No!" she groaned. "It's not—I think—Matt, I think he is _impaired_."

He got still at that. "Impaired by what?"

"Matt, on Sere Island, I thought I saw… more darkwater. I might have dreamed it. But I think I saw Russ… absorb it. A lot of it. Way more than we gave him in the desert."

He said nothing. Maia stared at him.

What had the woman called it, the darkwater? Gray essence—a god's blood. It made a demon like the Gray Prince more powerful. What did it do to a human being?

"I think we need to call her, Matt."

He shook his head. "You can," he said.

x.x.x.x.x

Russ swept into the pokémon center and announced that he'd bought them all tickets to Sunset Village. Departure time, half an hour.

They yelled at him, wasting time for all the good it did, and then they were in their rooms, stuffing clothes haphazardly into their packs. They had to run to make it, pelting through the streets, sleeping bags wadded up in their arms. They almost missed it.

Unasked-for, underhanded, and they had to pay him back. Of course they did.

Moriko spent the entire trip in her bunk, furious, with Vleridin cooped-up and bored in her body.

She was starving, with only the complimentary crackers and soda to eat on top of her own meager rations; there'd been no time to arrange sack lunches from the pokécenter. The train crawled, checking in at every stop to monitor the ancient pokémon's progress, and to take on daredevils and complete idiots heading for the staging area at the northern passage.

And they'd ditched Linden. It was silly—the 14-year-old had eight badges from Kanto, hell, _she_ was protecting them—but she was a kid and it was cruel to abandon her. She'd ghosted on _them_ , maybe, if she hadn't just forgotten to come back to the pokécenter. Moriko sent her a couple of emails that went unanswered.

At last they came to Sunset Village: tiny, barely more than the train platform and a building that was probably town hall, inn, pokémon center, restaurant, bar, and every other function. Small, skulking houses receded into the forest with dirt trails linking them.

Moriko stepped off the train and hoisted her bags on the platform, and she breathed in the cool air and the smell of pines. Maybe it was the hunger, maybe she was a little motion-sick, but she turned around and saw the mountain, soaring above the valley and wreathed by clouds, and she stumbled.

"Whoa, careful now," Matt said. "You want me to take your bag?"

"Ah—I'm good."

"See? What did I tell you?" Russ punched Matt's shoulder. "This is more like it. Let's find out where the gym is."

Moriko let them draw ahead, Russ with his red bag and Matt with his gray one. They were throwing down pokéballs, the pokémon bursting out gratefully and putting their noses to the ground to smell the rich forest dirt underfoot.

She looked up at the sky, at the pines all around her casting long shadows, and above them, stern, was Sunset Mountain.

All anew she felt that terrible longing: to see the wild places of the earth, to see the pokémon there, to touch pure life and water, to run fast and powerful on four legs on the hills and riverbanks and in the valleys and on the gray sides of mountains, to touch the sky itself and be wreathed in wind and storm, to answer to nothing and no one, not even the gods.

And she could not say where her desire ended and Vleridin's began, and could not tell if they had not always been the same.

x.x.x.x.x

They checked the trainers who had come through and stayed at the center, looking up their public profiles, and at once it was clear that the three of them were underlevel. The gym's level was level sixty-ish, and their pokémon were at low-to-mid fifties at best. On a normal course they would have trained at Sere Island, and Porphyry should have been the real time to catch up.

Russ, for all his impatience, at least had the ability to recognize the disparity in the numbers, and he allowed that they had work to do before challenging Nocturna. However, there was no local dojo: the place to train was the gym, and the local people declined attempts to challenge them, whether politely or rudely phrased.

"Well, all that's left is wild pokémon, then," Russ declared, and soon they were heading out into the nearby Regional Park at Sunset Valley.

The park was nearly empty; there a couple other groups of tents set up, whose owners they saw only on the way to bed. There was a tension in the air, a buildup, as if before a thunderstorm. The wild pokémon didn't seem to change their behavior if they felt it; they were almost common for once. The trained pokémon outstripped them in levels, though, and the wild ones fled after single attacks.

Russ caught a wintris and then released it almost as quickly, saying it was "too weak" and leaving it behind, confused, on the path. Moriko was too tired to log any more of his uncharacteristic statements, which were coming thick and fast, but this was too much. For all she knew, he was getting signals from the moon.

On their last night before heading back to the village, Moriko awoke, shivering. She pushed her way out of her tent to see white stuff— _snow_ —falling, and Matt building the fire back up.

"It's _August_ ," she said, shocked, her breath steaming.

"Cold air from the north, and snow falls at high altitude," Matt said, rubbing his hands together. "It's not hard to understand—" He bit off that habitual criticism. "Don't worry, it will probably be hot again at noon."

Moriko tossed out Rufus' pokéball and leaned on him gratefully.

Maia rolled in the snow, ecstatic and undignified for the first time that Moriko had ever seen, and the tibyss looked at her sternly for a moment before resuming.

"Ach, ice," Vleridin said, snuffling the dry flakes and then sneezing. "I'm not sure I've ever seen it from the sky, although my sire told me of such things."

"I haven't either, except on TV. At winter solstice they always show the winter sports in Sinnoh and it's all white, white snow everywhere. People dressed as the winter spirits come out with sawsbuck and yulerein and help children decorate their antlers. We could do that with you, to be festive."

"Don't touch the rack, human," Vleridin growled, mock-serious. "Are we going back to the town? If there's one thing you all have done properly, it's your heated houses."

They dug hats and sweatshirts out of the storage device, rumpled things that had lain at the bottom of their bags and then been taken up as energy in much the same condition. They'd warm up as they walked, they hoped, their breath steaming away into the trees.

 _Cold air from the north_ , Moriko thought. North was the ancient pokémon, and its real weather, its unfathomable power turning rain dance into real thunderheads and hail into a real storm, pelting rangers' pokémon with melon-sized ice chunks.

The weather had changed. That put a dark, cold feeling in her stomach, despite the news from the park office's internet assuring the public of the mastery and competence of the rangers and, above all, the great distance the ancient whiscash still had to travel to reach any concentration of people.

x.x.x.x.x

The Sunset Village pokémon center was more like a bed and breakfast, with a rustic interior instead of spare and sterile white. They sent the pokémon in for healing and left Vleridin with the attendant, who was nervously directing her to decorporealize and use the healing net instead of the ball healer.

In the kitchen they helped themselves to bread rolls just out of the oven with jam and margarine, and hot tea and hot chocolate. Moriko tore the white bread and gazed upon the crumb with religious reverence before eating three without pause.

At times like this, she could almost feel like—

"Slow down there, snorlax," Russ said. "You gonna hibernate?"

"Jesus _christ_ , Russ," Matt said, after a silence.

Moriko rose without saying anything and left, picking up her pokémon at the attendant's desk. Vleridin followed her without a word.

It was already warming up, like Matt had said, but there was still a bit of crispness in the air. Moriko sat outside with Rufus dwarfing the picnic table bench and Tarahn sprawled across her lap. Vleridin dozed standing up while Liona flew up above the pines, stretching her wings, and Thanasanian perched on the table, her antennae twitching nervously.

"You're sad," Rufus rumbled.

Moriko shrugged, paging through her pokédex and petting Tarahn absently. "Russ is being a jerk. I shouldn't have come, I should've just turned around in Porphyry."

"What's wrong with him?" Tarahn asked. "Is it a human thing?"

"What's a human thing?" Thana asked him.

"Humans have a lot of _glands_ that make them do strange things, especially when they're growing up," Tarahn said authoritatively. "It's all very fleshy and disgusting."

"Gross," said Vleridin.

"I agree strongly," Thana said.

Moriko laughed, quiet. "I'm sorry, I'm letting Russ waste my time, and all yours, too. Do you still want to go to the gym?"

"Yeah, duh," Tarahn said, while Rufus nodded.

"Wherever to get stronger," Vleridin said. "Standing answer."

"I... will go, of course," Thana said.

"Liona?" Moriko called to the treetops.

A margue fell to the forest floor, screaming angrily, and ran off into the bushes.

"I agree with Tarahn, whatever he said," the nigriff shouted back.

"You sound a little doubtful, Thana?" Moriko asked her.

The oberant turned away. "I will not oppose the will of the group."

"No, it's okay, you can tell me if you have anything to bring up, or things we should think about."

Thana shivered. "I am just... cold. It is nothing."

"You can tell me. Are you homesick? Maybe you'd like to head back to the desert?"

"No, I must complete my mission," she said, not looking at anyone.

Rufus extended his hand to her across the picnic table, and the fairy-type touched it tentatively, flinching at his steel armor.

"You don't have to be afraid," Rufus rumbled. "A team protects each other. Like a family."

Thana's antennae perked up a little.

Moriko smiled. "What do you all want to do after the gym? It's the end of the summer. Should we go back to Port Littoral?"

Tarahn made a face. "Ugh, your aunt is there. Let's go somewhere else."

"That's where Prof. Willow is, though," Rufus said.

"That's true, she's much better. You all will like Prof. Willow," Tarahn said to Vleridin and the others. "She gives very good scratches."

Moriko frowned, thinking. Prof. Willow's lab was probably her best option, and she could get her old job back for the autumn. Putting herself back in reach of her aunt and cousin, though...

"It doesn't matter where," Rufus said. "It doesn't matter where we go as long as we're with you, Moriko."

Moriko nodded and held his hand, and Tarahn bumped her face with his. Liona trotted over and Moriko scratched her under her beak. Vleridin bit Moriko's shoulder playfully, and she put her hand across the table to touch Thana's segmented claws.

"Alright," Moriko said, surreptitiously rubbing at her eyes. "Alright. One last adventure for the summer. Then, who knows?"

x.x.x.x.x

In the morning, Russ had disappeared.

He wouldn't answer pokédex messages or calls. He didn't seem to be at the inn, and they walked up and down the town's one street looking for him unsuccessfully. Matt shrank shyly as Moriko quizzed him, if _he'd_ seen anything, or if Russ had… gone out looking.

"Gone out looking for _who_ , in this town? Everyone here is a child or over fifty," Matt said. His expression flashed with new thoughts and finally, he said, "He's been colder to me, the past few days, and I… I haven't been that interested. Maybe."

At last, they guessed that he might have already gone up to the gym without them. What was that about? Was it revenge for the two of them wanting to go home? She and Matt had done everything he'd asked!

What now? They could leave; Moriko had reserved enough cash to get back to Port Littoral—well, enough to have gotten back outside of the price-gouging. Maybe they could do odd jobs in town, get the pokémon to haul wood or clear land.

Moriko looked up, past the tree line. What if they went to the gym, too? They'd been training. They could give it a try.

They'd have to climb up, though: Russ had taken Sylvia, so their flyers were Liona, who could carry one person, and Tak the honchkrow, who was too small, and unreliable besides. They asked the front desk if there was a preferred route up the mountain.

"You need to hire a guide," the concierge said, a bored boy who usually had his feet up watching livestreams of pokémon contests. "The trails aren't well marked or kept up. Couple of years ago, a kid went down a rockfall and broke his back, and his pokémon couldn't move him. Eventually they figured out to split up and get help, but it took days."

Moriko nodded and looked back at Matt. "It's probably true," he said quietly. "Brings in money for the town, and this is a wild area with not enough rangers. We're supposed to be big-time trainers with a flying pokémon at this tier," he added ruefully.

"Do we have the money?" Moriko asked.

Matt looked at his pokédex and winced. Moriko sighed.

They went out to scout the paths in and out of the town. Aside from the main track through the village and to the regional park, the others were barely more than game trails through the pine needles and soft moss. The trees crowded them, with outcrops of gray stone covered in lichen.

"What do you think?"

Matt shook his head. "I think this is a good place to die, without a guide or a flying pokémon or a teleporter."

"The plant-types could sense their way through the forest, and Tak can scout even if he can't carry you."

He nodded, thinking. "That might work. We can log the route carefully on our 'dexes."

They went back to the village to eat and think it over, and consult with the pokémon. At the station another train was arriving; they watched as a couple people offloaded and headed for the inn. There were still passengers staying on and going further north: some sedate, to various mining or logging towns, or the weather stations at the Northern Gaiien Passage; and some raucous, to get a glimpse of the ancient pokémon.

There'd been a report on it on the rangers' website, entreating people to stay away and let professionals do their jobs, but they weren't cracking down on it yet. They had that power, to stop people from traveling further, or to order an evacuation if it got closer to land.

Linden got off the train, and they all stood around for a moment, shocked.

"Linden! What are you—how are you doing?" Moriko said.

She approached them shyly. "Hey, I—I wanted—" she faltered.

"Come with us to the inn," Matt said. "Let's chat over lunch."

x.x.x.x.x

"You still have them?!"

"Shhhh," Matt said, looking around.

"You still have them?" Moriko repeated, hissing.

Linden's expression was hard. She pushed her pokédex across the table to them, and pressed a button.

Prof. Maple's face appeared on the screen.

"A notice to all pokémon rangers, pokémon professors, pokémon doctors, etc.," the recording said, "this trainer, Astrid Bernhardsdottir of Mossdeep City, ID no. 021983267, has been given special permission to carry undocumented pokémon in locked balls according to pokémon training and research statute number—"

They listened to the long string of legal terms, and Moriko looked up at Linden. " _How_."

Linden pressed her lips together. "I'm a demon master," she said quietly.

" _What_."

"Only I can carry them safely, and only I can try to make a future for them," Linden said. It sounded rehearsed. "They can't take energy from me, like they did from Russell or from the people on Sere Island. But I can give it," she said.

"For you, they're regular pokémon," Matt said.

Linden nodded. "I've always had this power. They wanted me to try training with another demon pokémon, which is why grandma asked her pokémon to go with me—I'm a good trainer, they all listened to me too, for all that they were at tier five after inactivity and me just a sprout—"

Moriko waved away Linden talking herself up again. "What happened to that demon pokémon?"

"That was a while ago, it escaped. Prof. Maple studies demon pokémon and shadow pokémon and stuff. She knows what to do now. With me they have a reason to stay. They don't have to keep stealing."

"Don't they _like_ stealing?" Moriko asked, tightly.

Linden looked away. "They can be nice, like a regular pokémon. I have to show them—"

"Linden, I still don't think—"

"Maybe this is the best place to test it," Matt broke in. "In the wild, far from cities, among an… inconvenient people," he said cynically, and Moriko knew a little of the history. The people of the second and third crossings had not always seen eye-to-eye.

Linden looked at them. "What? Which people?"

Half-second-crossing Matt waved a hand, never mind, and half-second-crossing Moriko didn't want to talk about it.

Linden shrugged. "So, will you let me stay?"

"Why do you want to travel with us so bad?" Moriko asked.

"You guys are cool, and you get me," she said, hopeful.

"You're wrong about that first one," Moriko said automatically, but she drummed her fingers on the table.

"We do need a third person," Matt said.

Linden looked up. "What about Russ?"

"We don't know where he is. He might have gone to the gym this morning, but he isn't back yet."

"Why didn't you follow him?"

"He took Sylvia, and we were riding double on her before. I don't have a large enough flying pokémon," Matt said.

"I have a flygon! Oh wait, no, I think you guys are too big to ride double," Linden amended.

Matt nodded. "So we have to walk up, and for that we need a guide, and for that we need money."

"Oh, money!" Linden grabbed her pokédex. "My dad gave me an allowance, and I kicked some tourist butt in Porphyry. I'll pay for the guide."

" _You're_ the tourist," Moriko muttered, but she was feeling relieved already.

"We couldn't," Matt said politely.

"I insist," Linden said, and that was that.

x.x.x.x.x

Matt went to go speak to the concierge about hiring a guide.

Linden wanted to talk strategy. "What pokémon are you going to use against Nocturna? It will be three-on-three or four-on-four at this tier, or it should be."

Moriko smiled. "Thana and Liona have a type advantage, and I guess Tarahn. We have native pokémon like margue, caligryph, hellion—"

"You should think about the battle style as well as types," Linden advised. "The oberant is part-fairy but she's fragile, and Liona is good but her own evolution could get her with flying-type attacks. Dark-types are usually sneaky and squishy—if your oxhaust can stay calm through the taunts and illusions he could tank their attacks well."

"I heard that there are a lot of TM or tutored ground- and fighting-type attacks at this level, especially among gym leaders," Moriko said. "Sharpedo and crawdaunt are pretty common ocean catches as well."

Linden nodded. "She could have her personal pokémon at this tier instead of just the revolving door of native catches, too, if their level has decayed a bit. That's a mean trick, though. You can do the levels in a summer, but the experience of a ten- or twenty-year battler can be real nasty." She grinned happily.

Moriko laughed. Linden's grandma's pokémon. Not for the first time, she wondered how much of that S-tier rank was Linden and how much was Abram and Betsy.

"Maybe you should fight her first and we can see what it's like."

"At S-tier it will be _way_ scarier than what she'll throw at you," Linden said proudly, "but I can do it if you want. In the Kanto summer tournament last year I had a good run with Peggy and Abram, Peggy is my ampharos, and—"

x.x.x.x.x

There was a guide available: the kid at the pokécenter desk said his great-aunt could take them up, and he called her on her pokédex. They waited outside to meet her while Linden took pictures with her pokédex, especially of the soaring peaks around the town, and poked around inside the one store Sunset Village had to offer.

Abram stayed behind, his metal hide heating up in the sunlight. Eventually he shifted, approaching Moriko. He fixed her with a red eye, close enough that she could see the faint circuitboard-like patterning on the iris.

"You must be kind to Astrid," the metagross said solemnly. "She is lonely."

Moriko nodded, feeling vaguely chastened. She looked down at the goring claws protruding from his wedge-shaped legs. "I don't know why she's interested in us. We're nobodies and she's an S-tier trainer with a pokémon professor dad."

"You are older. She desires your regard, and your admiration. You share a secret."

"Demons."

"Yes."

"Should I treat her differently?"

Abram's eyes half-closed, and there was an air of amusement in his voice. "I will advise against flattery. It makes her insufferable. Treat her as an equal. She desires this more than anything."

"Okay. Thanks, Abram."

"You are doing well. This is a strange land, full of monsters," said the metal spider with a mouth on his belly. "You are unlucky to have your journey interrupted by a giant, and by demons also."

"Yeah, this summer was… it was all the worst things that could happen. Boredom and then fucking insanity, and not much in between. Were there demons, or, or other weird, terrible things, when you went out with Linden's grandma?"

"No demons. There were giants, some years. We were afraid of legendaries in those days: they brought fire and ice, or hurricanes, or drought. We understand them better now. We understand humans better now." He looked at her sidelong, and then at Linden, taking a selfie in front of the village's mother-stone. "Perhaps we will understand demons better, too, one day."

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N** : Thanks for reading! Five chapters left to the end. :) I have an illustration up of the Ursabre line, Gaiien's pseudolegendary, on my tumblr/deviantart **gaiienpokedex**.


	25. Ouroboros

**Changelog:** Gods and Demons Chapter 35, edits for grammar and continuity.

Chapter 23

 _Ouroboros / it cannot be extinguished / Prophetess_

 _—Aug. 25th, 128 CR_

Their guide was a stout woman dressed in flannel and denim with a rifle and three pokéballs, and she had blue hair that had faded with age, leaving it a stormy sea color. She spoke a few words to them in a language Moriko dimly remembered, but she couldn't think of the right response. Matt said something back that sounded right, but the guide just did a one-shouldered shrug and started detailing the route in English.

The guide led the way with an elderly raigar and a papiliris scouting up ahead. The trails up the mountain were steep and narrow, with boulders and rockfalls all around. Periodically their guide told them to use their flying pokémon to ascend vertical rock faces to continue the route up above. Liona, Linden's flygon Myrmel, and the guide's wartinger helped them up the hardest stretches.

"Is it possible to fly all the way up?" Moriko asked.

The guide grunted a yes. "The weather turns quickly. Safer to go on foot. I have seen a man after he tumbled off and hit stone."

Moriko winced. "Our… friend went on without us. He might have gone up to the gym on his borfang."

The guide nodded, allowing this. "A princely elemental, that. It was calm this morning. I am sure they are well."

They encountered a number of dark-type sources as well, deep pits and inky shadows that lingered under the dark pines. One was a cave, a blind eye staring out of a high, sheer cliff. Liona, Tak, and Linden's weavile all used it successfully, the two flying pokemon hovering at its entrance and the weavile skittering up the rock. Moriko thought briefly of Celeste, and wondered what had happened to her, what she'd been up to after abandoning them.

Halfway up, they stopped for lunch, peanut butter and pitas, and hard cheese and water.

"Did you get the ancient pokémon notification up here?" Matt asked.

"Yes," the guide said, scratching her raigar under the chin. "Long time coming. It was an ugly summer. Always finishes with one of 'em." She made a series of signs, rapid-fire, with one hand. "Let it be the only one."

"Ugly?"

"Dead kids. Ronin. Demons. The rangers kill 'em, their bad energy goes into the earth—shamans can delay it. But the dead are down there, one way or another, and they wake up."

There was a silence, and Moriko felt tonguetied with all the questions she could ask, but hesitated at the guide's terseness and dismissal. Linden was quiet for once, listening.

"How long has the gym leader been here?" Matt asked.

"Ten years." She nodded uphill. "They've always wanted it, clans and warlords and now the league. There's power there, always has been. But the big one in the mountain isn't quiet."

"The big—? A big source?"

The guide made hand signs again, mostly the same ones.

"There are tame sources and wild ones," the raigar said in a creaky old-lady voice. "Sometimes you just find a pool in the woods and meditate. Other times, you chase them, hunt them down. But they aren't all safe. There're bad sources. Sources that use _you_. Need to know which are which."

The guide nodded. "She came ten years ago, lots of kids working up in the gym, working with her. They're all gone. No one stays. It's not a good place. Get your badge and leave. You can call down if you want guiding back, or pay me to wait."

x.x.x.x.x

The gym had been opulent, once, with chandeliers and thick carpet, but now everything was wreathed in protective plastic covers and a dull layer of dust. No attendants or acolytes came to greet them. There was a narrow path through the grit, footprints of various ages overlapping.

The gym leader met them inside wearing sableye-print sweatpants and slippers, her black hair drawn into a bun that was falling out of the loose hairtie.

They'd expected a _little_ more out of tier seven.

Moriko tried not to stare. "Are you… Nocturna?"

"For my sins, yes," she said, and smiled weakly. There were bags under her eyes and it aged her, making her look older than the late thirties the league website indicated.

"Are you okay?" Moriko asked. "Should we come back another day?"

"No, it's fine. I just… look like this. I can battle fine," Nocturna said.

"Have you had any other challengers today?" Matt asked.

"Hm? No, just you guys," Nocturna answered, and fiddled with her trainer belt, walking deeper into the mountain.

They followed her. Moriko looked at Matt, and he shrugged.

Linden glanced between them. "He's not here?"

"Do you still care about the badge?" Matt asked quietly.

"I…" Moriko watched the scruffy and disheveled gym leader. "The pokémon wanted to battle. I guess since we're here… We could train with her, instead. For practice."

The only sound was Nocturna's slippers scuffing on the stones. A hydreigon shuffled out of the darkness, walking on its clawed wing edges, and it nudged Nocturna with one of its heads, which she petted in passing. It waited for them as they approached it warily, and walked alongside them for a few strides.

Moriko watched it. "Hey, I'm Moriko," she whispered. "Is… everything okay here?"

The hydreigon watched Nocturna ahead of them, and it pressed its heads together. Finally, it said, "We need help," and stumped ahead toward the gym leader.

 _All pokémon are prey animals, and they keep secrets._

The arena was messy, the composite floor scarred with huge scratchmarks and scorches from the seventh-tier battles that she entertained. That was sometimes a job for students to clean and polish, the old-fashioned belief that that grunt work kept you humble and appreciative.

Nocturna had no students and no referee, the latter of which might have been illegal. She had the cameras, the energy radar, and the aura sensors like usual, so they could refer to that footage for a battle dispute, but it made the arena look even emptier. There was room for a large number of spectators, sitting and standing, with hanging screens for close-ups, but it was all empty and powered down except for the bare minimum.

"So," Nocturna said, pushing back her tangled hair, "who'd like to—"

They all stopped at the discordant electronic wailing that erupted. Moriko turned her arm to see her pokédex glowing with that gyarados-head emblem again, and this time the background was flashing black and red. An alarm in the gym started up with a dopplering whirr like the old-fashioned tsunami sirens in movies, and the screens powered up to show the Pan-Regional Elemental Defense notice.

 _ANCIENT POKÉMON ESCAPED CONTAINMENT…CURRENT POSITION_ _47°23′N 146°40′W_ _MOVING WSW 60 KN…EVACUATION ORDER 100 KM…PREPARATION ORDER 500 KM…AVOID COASTS…AVOID NON-EARTHQUAKE-HARDENED STRUCTURES…GET TO HIGH GROUND…STAY WITH POKÉMON…OBEY RANGER AND PRED INSTRUCTIONS_

"Oh," Nocturna said in a little voice. "We have to evacuate." She started shaking, and the hydreigon went toward her. She leaned on its middle neck.

"That's okay," Moriko said, "can your hydreigon fly? We'll fly inland with you no problem. You can fly with us, we have pokémon," she babbled, seeing the mounting distress on Nocturna's face.

"I can't…"

"Sure you can," Matt said impatiently. "Do you need help?"

The gym leader's jaw worked helplessly, no sound coming out. Moriko stared at her and thought of another person she knew who couldn't speak about what was wrong with him.

 _Vleridin…_

 _I thought so, too._

Moriko felt Vleridin rise up in her body, and soul-sight overlaid her vision: the arena, glittering with stray energy; the hydreigon in dark purple-black streaked with dragon's teal; and the gym leader, swathed in black and ice-blue webs that fuzzed and distorted the boundaries of her body.

"Matt, she—"

Maia appeared, releasing herself from her pokéball, and she looked at Nocturna as well and turned to Matt. The hydreigon raised its auxiliary wings at the part-ice-type, but it was perfunctory. Its heads kept nudging Nocturna, fitful.

Moriko looked at Matt. "Could we try…?"

"Nocturna," said a new voice.

It was Celeste.

The celestiule shone in the dim arena, the flashing ancient pokémon warnings reflecting off her translucent body; she was like a skylight, her hide reflecting the blue sky streaked with rushing mountain clouds. She was taller, broader than the filly who'd pulled a disappearing act on them after Sere Island. What had she been doing? Had she been following them?

On the edge of hearing there was a song and a whispering that Moriko could not understand or recall, but it filled her with a feeling of relaxation and contentment. Through the soul-vision Moriko could see the webs falling off the gym leader, one by one until she could see her more clearly. Nocturna grew distressed and cried out before they could all be removed.

Celeste halted, and the song faded, and dimness came back into the arena.

Nocturna was breathing hard, like she'd just run a race, and she was hanging onto the hydreigon grimly. "What did… what did you do?"

"A demon has been draining your life energy for many years, Nocturna. You cannot speak of it. You cannot leave. People come here and they know it is wrong. Your pokémon know it is wrong. What say you?"

Nocturna panted, watching her, and she said, "Yes," and more confidently, "Yes! It lives… it lives down below, and—goddammit, we need to leave, the evacuation order—it's a whiscash, it could bring down the whole mountain—"

Moriko saw the webs creeping back onto her. Shortly the gym leader was unable to speak again, and she slumped against her pokémon, the bonds on her doubly galling after that brief freedom.

"Let me help you, Nocturna; let me help you, Genevieve," Celeste said, her crystalline tones ringing in the hollowness of the arena.

Nocturna looked at them, unutterably tired, the ancient pokémon siren whooping at a skull-crushing volume. "What could you even do?"

"Let me free you. Let me free you both," Celeste said, and tears flooded down the gym leader's face.

x.x.x.x.x

Nocturna led them through hallways and tunnels, deep into the mountain, and the modern-looking fixtures receded until they were navigating by mine lamp and flashlight. Eventually they came to an old construction barrier plastered with signs and lit in lurid yellow light: DANGER due to OPEN PIT, DANGER due to AMBIENT ENERGY, DANGER due to WILD POKÉMON.

Nocturna shuffled through a huge janitor's ring of metal keys and unlocked the door. Beyond it in decades-old red LED light was a pit, a mohole like in the reginant hive, straight down.

She looked at them. "…This way."

She flew down on her hydreigon with Matt; Moriko followed on Liona, and Linden on her flygon. Celeste glowed and floated down with them.

Another fall, deep into the earth, down to the roots of the mountain. Moriko looked up, and she could see a blue star, a tiny blue window far above, and she realized that the mohole went up as well, to the mountain's peak, and she wondered what appalling power had dug the tunnel.

At last they reached the floor, and they saw the demon.

The cavern was huge, but it filled up the space, its serpents' coils extending back into unseen passages. Its frosty fur shimmered in the light as it breathed, but it was otherwise still, its many limbs limp and motionless.

"There it is," Nocturna whispered. "There it is! The thing, the demon pokémon," she said, the words tumbling out, its silence on her suspended in its presence. "Oh, they told me—they told me when I took the appointment, the people of the second crossing, they tried to tell me, they knew, they knew—" She threw her arms around the hydreigon, and it patted her awkwardly with its primary wings.

 _Cryptidex mode activated. Aura analysis: ice- and dark-type, 70% certainty. Dark- and rock-type, 15% certainty. Ice- and rock-type, 15% certainty. No matches. Initiate full scan and upload? (Y/N) Error: No service. Scans will be uploaded when connected to pokédex service._

"We need to break its hold on you," Celeste said. "We need to free it."

Matt shot the celestiule a look. "Are you sure? Quite frankly, I think the fewer of these things there are out and about, the better. Sorry," he added to Linden, who stuck out her tongue at him.

"Our enemy is near," Celeste said. "This demon's power is much diminished, but it knows him, and it hates him. Free it, and it will free Nocturna, and it will attack the Gray Prince." She looked among them. "What say you?"

"The Gray Prince is here?" Moriko asked, startled. "Where? Are we in danger? What about the ancient pokémon? Celeste— _what are you_?"

"One task at a time, earth's daughter," the celestiule said. "Free this demon. All else must follow."

The hydreigon spoke up in its triple voice. "Please. Help Gen."

Moriko took in the gym leader's desperate and ragged appearance. She looked up at the vent to the outside far above them, and thought of the terrible boredom of spending years alone out of view of the sun or stars. She pitied the demon suddenly; she did not know its crimes, but surely time had been served. She doubted it could change its nature, but…

Linden was watching the imprisoned demon like someone looking at a rescue kitten or eevee.

"What do we do?" Moriko asked Celeste.

The thing in the cavern was slumped just shy of the barrier, mouth open and gray tongue lolling, its flat black eyes looking at nothing.

Celeste stepped forward. "Demon of Frost and Starlight, I call to you. Your master walks again, broken, half-formed."

No reaction, no flicker of recognition.

"It used to speak," Nocturna murmured. "Not to me, exactly, just… shouts. Commands. Pleading. It would tell me to break the barrier, and I had no idea how and neither did it. But it still wouldn't let me leave. It hasn't said anything in a while, and… I'm still stuck here."

"I know about demons," Linden said, drawing a little closer to it. "They—"

The thing moved and they all flinched, crouched, reached for pokéballs. It raised its head to look at Linden.

Garbled, slurred speech spilled out, the words running together, melting, buzzing like interfering radio channels. Clicking and popping followed this, the sound of stones hitting stones, water, small things scuttling, and finally: " _Who… are you_?"

"Who are _you_?"

The demon sighed, as if this exchange had exhausted it, and laid down its head again, ripples passing along its length into the distant tunnels behind.

" _There were temples_ ," it said, breathily, dreamily. " _Such cities as you may dream of. To the sky… Down to the roots… it would not fall._

" _I was here. I was here before you came. I saw the first ones. The first invaders. I saw the worlds crack open. I was the first. I was…_ " It continued, quieter, and then into barely audible muttering.

"There are chains on it," Celeste said. "Chains that go down into the heart of stone, chains forged by gods-that-left and blessed by gods-that-stayed, chains eons old, and until they are broken it cannot move or pass the barrier. Help me break them."

"Chains forged by _gods_?" Moriko repeated. "Celeste! Why should we—"

"Time all things upends: strength for weakness, stone for sea, laughter for silence, foolishness for wisdom. They left us, and they taught us freedom. To free the prisoner you must free the beast. Throw off _your_ chains, earth's daughter."

 _Make a choice_ , she remembered Maia saying. That choice had sucked too.

She sighed. "Okay. Okay. Where are they?"

Vleridin helped—the chains were all too obvious under soul-sight, vast black links that cut into and through the demon, that slithered away into shadow and downward below the stone.

"How do you break that? With an attack?" Moriko asked.

"Look again. The work was mighty, but time always runs."

On closer inspection the bindings were rotten, swirling with corroded-metal colors and an oily sheen. What had the meditant said to them, underground, all those days ago? Aged things fail. All these prodigious, ancient works were crumbling.

Celeste paced in front of the barrier. "The rabbit gnaws the rope. You must turn to energy, and it will be as easy as biting."

The pokémon all looked at each other, mistrustful—in energy form they would be vulnerable to permanent damage not only from the demon, but from one another. The hydreigon hissed at Maia.

Myrmel buzzed a denial. "I ain't know _any_ of you people," the flygon said.

"I trust my group," Moriko said, intervening. "I trust Nocturna, she's a gym leader—she's not going to keep killer pokémon."

"You'd be surprised," Matt muttered.

"I will admit I am concerned," Maia said. "Especially about that… entity… coming out and goring or crushing the trainers."

Nocturna shook her head. "Nothing of pokémon—their bodies, energy, attacks—can get through the barrier."

Vleridin phased out of Moriko's body, appearing among them in a clatter of hooves on stone. The hydreigon snarled, and the mooskeg snorted at it derisively.

"Killing someone—eating someone—as energy can't be done so easily," Vleridin said grimly. "You would feel it if anyone tried. We're all healthy here. Any of us could fight back."

The hydreigon looked at her with all three heads. "And how do _you_ know—?"

There was a deep sound, far-off, and the cave shook, setting pebbles to clatter on the rock. A hiss of sand or gravel spilled somewhere.

Moriko looked around, half-crouched. "An earthquake—"

"We need to leave," Matt said to the pokémon urgently. "This is the only way to get it to let Nocturna go. Please."

Myrmel vibrated her wings. "What do you think, L, can we trust these idiots?"

"They're cool. Also, Abram will really make you regret it if you try anything," Linden said cheerfully to the group.

"Let's get this over with then. I'mma stand over _here_ , though," the flygon said.

In the end, it was Myrmel at one end of the cave and the hydreigon at the other, with Maia and Vleridin between them, and they turned to energy in a riot of color. The spheres of spirit rose and broadened as they whisked along the surface of the barrier, exploring like flatworms.

"This— _this_ —" came Vleridin's voice, and her green-blue sphere was shadowed briefly by something.

They all flinched at the gunshot crack that came next, and the air was filled with the smell of ash and rot and dead things, but the shadow was gone.

A ripple went down the long, long body of the demon pokémon, and it stirred as more cracks sounded. The energy-bodies swirled around, looking for weak links and leaving glowing afterimages as they searched.

They came together, working on the less-rotted chains, and finally the barrier itself began to collapse. Something translucent seemed to bend, just visible in the light, and finally it fell with a sound like a huge breath.

The pokémon fled back, turning to matter and standing with the trainers, and the last of the chains fell and warped away. The shards of the barrier burst into glittering motes, and the demon pokémon thrashed and then sat up, rigid.

"Karaxil! I name you!" Celeste shouted.

It levered itself upward, its triangular head seeking the light and its limbs grasping like an insect's on glass, but it fell back, gasping. Black lines snaked across its fur, wider and wider until its skin burst, filling the air with shining feathers. They dissolved into sparks, winking out one by one.

It shrank, smaller and smaller until it took a humanoid shape, feminine, silvery-skinned and drawing a cloak of shadow and shimmering ice around itself. It turned its abyssal eyes on them, five pairs like a spider's.

"I am free," it said, in a voice of ice and dark water and auroras at the roof of the world. "I am leaving. You have my attention, namer. Ask of me a boon."

Celeste stood before the demon, her sky-skin grown gray and fitful, crossed by scudding clouds. "Go now and harm humans and elementals no longer. Take your place in the cycle or follow them that were and who are now not. Gather up your old soldiers. And… for your interest… your old master is near. Broken. Weak."

It smiled. "Cruel old child, to set me contradictory tasks. Do you still not realize how we live? How we must live?"

It looked at Linden and tilted its head, and the moment spun out, a moment caught in crystal, a moment poised on a knifetip.

"How we might, yet, live…"

"Yes."

It crouched, pulling its shadow-cloak around itself, and it looked suddenly tiny, dwarfed by the scarred walls of its prison. "I have slept long and long," it said, "that when I awoke I might see impossible things. What wonders lie beyond these walls? What terrors?"

"Come and see," Celeste said.

"You have dared that which few have ever even conceived of," Karaxil said. "I must, at least, equal your daring. I shall meet you on the battlefield."

The demon morphed again, its body stretching up and up, and in a flurry of limbs and silvery feathers and midnight blue fur it rushed up the cavern entrance where they had come in, and further, chasing the daylight it was long denied.

Celeste looked at them, and she turned into light, turned into a star, and she shot after it, up and up.

x.x.x.x.x

"How did you _know_? How did you know about me, about this, about demons—whose pokémon is that celestiule—"

They ran along stone corridors, and Moriko and Matt gave the gym leader an abbreviated version of their journey. Nocturna made sharp inhalations at mention of the Gray Prince, and the Black Queen and how she'd helped them.

"Of course—of course this would happen with the ancient pokémon here too—" Nocturna said, furious. "And me! Cooped up here! Useless! What was I _thinking_ —"

"How long have you been here?" Matt asked, as they passed through key-carded doors to Nocturna's rooms, stirring up dust. "Did the league know about that thing? Did they know what it was doing to you?"

"Right? I can't—" Nocturna gestured, touched her forehead. She went on, more contemplative: "You have to understand—I was good, I was fine for a long time. And I had a duty, I have a duty as a gym leader to protect and to teach. The demon is a weapon under its own power, or under a demon master's influence. And I'm only one person—let one person suffer—and I wasn't suffering, really, until a year or two ago, perhaps. It was my duty to keep it out of dangerous hands."

"How could—how could they do that to you—" Moriko said, aghast.

"I have a lot of freedom, as a gym leader," Nocturna said, a note of pride in her voice. "A lot of power. Bad gym leaders abuse that power and privilege. I always tried to give something back. I took responsibility. In the old days the clan leaders stood as wardens against demons and evil powers. So do I." She hesitated. "But I've been a prisoner a long time. And… I don't think I was thinking clearly."

"I talked to Belladonna in Porphyry a few days ago," Moriko said. "She said the elites and the gym leaders were getting together to fight the ancient pokémon, or should have been."

"That's right," Nocturna said, looking through her cabinets more decisively. "That's where I should be. Let me—let me pack up everything important. Read me the PRED notice, here—"

They checked Nocturna's pokédex as she threw items into a backpack and a duffel. She looped a second and a third trainer's belt around her chest like a gunslinger's bandoliers.

"It's still out to sea," Matt said. The gyarados-head emblem stood out in stark black on the map of the Lacuna Sea. But it was closer than it had been, and now it was heading for the mainland.

"Okay. Okay okay okay," Nocturna muttered to herself, pulling out a sheaf of paper documents—fine paper, with gold leaf seals here and there—and shoving them into a folder in her backpack. "Shit, shit, what am I forgetting—"

"Pokéballs, pokédex, chargers, powerpack, keys, medicine, toiletries, shoes, socks—" Moriko recited.

The gym leader grabbed a few more things and hefted the bags. "What about you, did you leave things in town?"

"No, we're good. The guide left too, we didn't know how long this would take."

"Good, don't even try to get on the train, just go to—shit, you're short a flying pokémon." Nocturna massaged her eyes. "I need to—I should be with the rangers, fighting, I've been"—she pushed her lank hair back—"I haven't left the gym in a year, in—shit, in two years. But you all—"

"We'll go with you," Linden said eagerly. "We'll make sure you get to the other gym leaders okay."

Matt shook his head. "I think we need to get inland. We'll walk down, I remember most of the route and took pictures. I don't think there were any really tricky areas once you're aware of the drops—"

Moriko's pokédex beeped with an incoming call.

It was from Russell.

 _Fucking finally._ Moriko answered it, and the call connected and resolved to—

Purple eyes in a sunken, pale face wreathed with steel-gray hair.

 _No—_

The Gray Prince smiled.

"Hello, is Matthew there, please?" the gray man said, in perfect broadcaster tones.

"Where is Russ?"

The words hissed; they tore out of her lungs. She felt vertigo, felt the bottom drop out of her stomach and fall forever.

"Russell is spending the day with us. We're having a wonderful time and we hoped you'd join us, too. You and Matthew are invited." He grinned. "We haven't been introduced, but I so wanted to meet you."

" _Where is Russell_?"

The Gray Prince looked away; the camera shifted, the picture whirling—forest, sky, stone, scrub—to show a clearing.

Russ was sitting against a tree, slumped over, with the Wandering Fire standing over him, and another figure to one side.

The camera whisked away.

"It would be rude to bring uninvited guests," the gray demon said. He smiled again, pleasant. "I will kill him if you bring anyone else—rangers or other trainers or especially my enemy. I'll see you soon."

Moriko watched the call drop. She shoved her pokédex into a pocket and strode out of Nocturna's apartment.

Someone grabbed her wrist.

"Let me go, Matt—"

It was Nocturna, her pale hand surprisingly strong, her eyes wide and hair wild.

"Do not go," Nocturna said. "This isn't the movies. The Gray Prince will kill everyone who shows up. He will kill you and eat your pokémon. You escaped because the mystic—the Black Queen—was there, and she's not near or she'd already be fighting him. It's what she _does_. I was told—I was trained—we have to keep them away from people, away from cities. A leaf can survive a hurricane only because it goes unnoticed, and you have been _noticed_."

"Russ—"

"Your friend is bait, and if he's not already dead he will be, and you along with him. He wants you for revenge or humiliation or both. Come with me to the rangers, and if he comes looking for you at least you will be with the strongest trainers and pokémon in the region."

A tremor, to punctuate.

Moriko turned to Matt, and she must have looked ghastly because he flinched a little, he who had stared down a berserk svarog and who had fought demons. He looked back, beseeching.

"We can't do anything," Matt said softly. "We had an army of wild pokémon last time and we—maybe—hurt the Fire when Celeste did her thing. There's just us now. Celeste is gone.

"We'll die. The pokémon will die."

Moriko swayed. A thought came and etched itself into her mind with a terrible gravity: _if he's dead I should be too_ , final destiny, final judgement.

But it was wrong.

She owed Russ so much—her only friend, her only confidant for so long, kind to her beyond deserving even if it had ended—but she could not go. She thought of her pokémon, and she knew it was wrong to take them there, to all but throw them into the devil's jaws.

She saw Russ in her mind's eye, alone on the cold ground. She thought of Sylvia, and she thought of his parents, and she knew she had to leave him there.

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N:** :) :) :) There's a drawing of Nocturna as she was in the Prologue and a drawing of her now up on my tumblr/deviantart, **gaiienpokedex**. Karaxil is in my gallery too although you'll have to scroll back a little further.


	26. The Sea Gives Up Her Dead

**Changelog:** Gods and Demons Chapter 36. Small edits for grammar and continuity.

 **A/N:** This chapter has a short sequence with some unusual line breaks and center-aligned text. Please let me know if this is unreadable for you for any reason (mobile, screenreader, etc.) and I will provide an altered copy of the chapter to your specifications.

Chapter 24

 _The Sea Gives Up Her Dead / Caacrinolaas /_ _Spirit of Wrath_

 _—Aug. 25th, 128 CR_

It was clear and cold on the mountaintop, and all the gray peaks of the Spine of Gaiien loomed, jagged, receding into the north and into obscurity. There were wisps of cloud high above, stretching out far in the distance above ice that never melted, and valleys that glittered with the green and blue of summer.

Sunset Mountain had been crafted during the days of the second crossing, its peak flattened into a vast platform circled by columns. Many of them were still standing despite age and weather, and beyond them were the ruins of watchtowers, narrow eyries that had faced in all directions and could only have been assaulted from the air. Their enemy had been within the walls, all along.

Mountain plants and lichen grew among the tumbled-down stones now, and the only sound was the sighing of the wind, rushing off the sea and bringing with it a breath of winter from the north.

Mighty was the work, but time always runs.

Nocturna looked better and better with every step she took, like a plant suddenly given water and sunlight. There was a light in her eyes and an eagerness to her gait that hadn't been there before. She harnessed her hydreigon, composite straps and buckles for serious flying, and she threw down a pokéball to reveal a shiny caligryph with white feathers and scales.

"Albus, please carry Matt," Nocturna said, working quickly.

The caligryph sketched an elaborate bow. "Charmed, I'm sure," it said.

"We're flying to these coordinates," Nocturna said finally, firing off the message to their pokédexes. "We'll be in the air several hours. I will communicate through Tet when we're taking breaks. Let me know if you need to stop."

"Where are we going?" Linden asked.

"The whiscash is coming our way, so the ranger base camp is moving. We're going to meet them—and we're going to stay the hell away from demons, mystics, and rubberneckers. Do you understand?"

"Alright," Linden said. Matt nodded.

Moriko did not hear. She did not see the mountains; she did not see the sky. She saw only her friend, tormented somewhere near, and she could not go to him.

She held onto Liona's back, face pressed into the feathers, as they soared in the cold, thin air. She did not see the leagues of forest, or the shimmering turquoise lakes, secret tarns reachable only from the sky. Russ was dying, had died, murdered by demons and energy stolen.

 _I could go. I could still go. I could leave the pokémon with Matt to protect them._

 _Faster to just let go now, for the same result,_ Vleridin murmured to her, not unkindly.

 _What do I do?_

 _There will be time for retribution. There will be opportunity._

 _We're going to where the rangers are,_ she thought. _Maybe we'll be able to fight him. Maybe they can help us._

 _Yes_ , Vleridin agreed, but they both knew how reliable wishes were.

x.x.x.x.x

The rangers' base was anthill-busy, with high-level pokémon and rangers in red and orange running to and fro intent on errands. PRED soldiers and soldier-pokémon kept a watchful eye over the proceedings, their combat armor steel gray and intimidating, and the former bulging with guns and anti-pokémon devices.

Borfang were the stars of the operation, with dozens around the camp in varying shades of green and the purple shiny variety. There were grizzled veterans with their treelike hides speckled with lichen, and new recruits as bright-eyed as Sylvia— _had been? Oh, gods_ —A wide variety of other pokémon were present as well: flying pokémon and water-types, psychics, aura specialists, pokémon that knew specialized moves or field moves.

Moriko's blankness had given way to fits of crying, and she kept a wad of tissues pressed to her face to avoid having to interact with anyone while they waited to be seen. Nocturna had been hailed by a stocky man with white hair and eyes, trailed by an antepard—Polaris, the ice-type gym leader—and had gone off immediately to fulfil her gym leader's duties.

They espied Lapis and Aria of the Elite Four from far off, but they weren't in the mood for fangirling, even Linden. There were legendaries present as well, famous ranger-pokémon with the age, acuity, and power to operate independently. Moriko was almost cheered by the sight of Atlitzin the suicune appearing in the faintest of auroral haloes and then snarling at a junior ranger to bring her a cup of coffee.

Belladonna walked by, and she started when she saw them.

"How do you all keep turning up?" she said, exasperated. "I told you to go—"

"The Gray Prince has our friend," Matt said. "We need a ranger."

Belladonna blew out her cheeks. "I _told_ you. Come on."

The gym leader drew them past the lines of pokémon rangers and guards, and strode into an operations tent. Inside were three rangers with captain's insignia crowded around screens, with haphazard bundles of cables strewn around and half-hidden under covers. The dim interior was a kaleidoscope of interfering light from the monitors, as weather- and aura- and other radars Moriko didn't understand wheeled in false color.

"Lark, the demon mystic kidnapped a kid," Belladonna said, by way of greeting.

The ranger-captains looked up at her, and the two women went back to the reports they were reading or hearing. Ranger-Captain Lark made a show of removing his headset before approaching Belladonna. He was short, with close-cropped gray hair, and his ranger uniform's sleeves rolled up and coat open in the closeness of the tent.

"Which one?" he asked.

"There's only one, Lark. The Gray Prince."

"Mm-hmm." He typed something into his pokédex and snapped it shut. "I'll see what we can do after this."

Moriko pushed forward. "Russ needs help _now_. This is the video call the Gray Prince sent with his pokédex. Russ isn't moving."

Lark watched the video, his face grave. Moriko winced at the sound of her own recorded voice.

Ranger-Captain Petrel watched briefly, too. "The Fire is there," she said quietly. She looked around the same age as Lark, with a thin and severe face, and black hair tucked under her ranger's cap.

"Don't tell the terrible two," Lark muttered.

Lark checked the metadata, sending the geolocation of the call to his own pokédex. He turned it off carefully and handed it back to her.

"I can't help. Not right now," he said gently.

"You must have someone—"

"All of my people are on essential jobs. We're gearing up for another flight. The Gray Prince isn't a trivial task, I can't spare the crew needed."

"What's the use of rangers, then?" Moriko choked out, furious. A tantrum. She didn't care. "He's _dying_! He could be dead! He needs you!"

"I have to protect everyone. _Everyone._ " Lark sighed and pulled out a squashed tissue pack, and put it in her hands. "Not just me, not just you, not just your friend, not just my people—everyone. And we have to make judgements on that basis. I have to. I have to even when it hurts. I'm sorry."

Ranger-Captain Lark gestured, and a couple of juniors appeared to escort them out.

"Moriko," Belladonna said outside the tent, halting. "I'm sorry." She left, intent on her own duties.

Matt wiped at his eyes. "Stupid," he muttered.

Linden looked between them, and finally took Moriko's hand.

Moriko squeezed Linden's hand, and she looked angrily out at the camp. "There must be something we can do."

They approached the staging area where flying pokémon were preparing for their next runs, and the gym leaders were there with their strongest acolytes in the mix. Belladonna spotted them again and mouthed "go home". She was securing the flight harness on her enormous mantigore, bigger and higher-level than the one Maia had fought in Porphyry.

They tried to find someone who looked like they were in charge and were suddenly facing Dragut, one of the Elite Four. Moriko had met him briefly on Thalassa Isle; he'd been wearing his battle costume then, but here he'd shed the pirate garb for a more sensible altitude-flying jumpsuit. It wasn't flattering, built more for function than form, but he was good-looking enough to make it look like an amusing affectation, and his thick black ringlets spilled out from under the hood.

"Are you three lost? Do you need help getting inland?" Dragut asked.

Moriko shook her head. "We need your help, sir—the Gray Prince is here and he's taken our friend."

"Speak to the rangers—"

"We already did."

Dragut smiled sadly. "If they said no, then it's no. Listen, let my assistant help get you to an evac site. You don't want to be here when the whiscash gets its act together. This could be the big one."

A ranger flicked something onto Dragut's pokédex in passing. He read it briefly and then laughed. "Moriko Sato, eh? Didn't I meet you earlier? I give you one of my patented pep talks, but you go off and get in trouble all summer?"

Moriko smiled nervously and tried to see his pokédex screen, but he turned it off and let his arm fall.

"I know how it is, once you've got a taste for danger, but this is _not_ the same. We will go look for your friend when the whiscash is done."

Dragut's hurocco ambled over, its translucent body shifting under its rocky armor studded with barnacles and dried salt. "We can't work if we have to protect you at the same time," it said. "Think about your pokémon."

They allowed themselves to be pushed off by the elites' helpers. The three found a spot to watch the proceedings, hoping for another shot at persuading someone to go find Russ.

"…That is an absurdly pretty man," Moriko said.

"Right?" Matt muttered.

Linden huffed. "You guys are weird."

The camp shifted as the start time for the run grew closer, and the rangers' activity intensified. The ranger-captains strode out of their tent flanked by juniors and PRED soldiers.

A proximity alarm peeped and several soldiers pointed their guns at the sky. People dropped to the ground, swearing.

The woman in black landed on her bare feet, blue fire still streaming out of her mouth and nose. To Matt's delight, no one paid her any attention after the initial scare: the PRED soldiers relaxed their weapons and moved off. Even a few soldier-pokémon flipped their tails at her dismissively.

Ranger-Captain Petrel rolled her eyes and Crane shook her head; they left it to Lark again. He folded his arms, watching the Black Queen, and waited.

She ignored the rest of the ranger corps just as effectively. "My enemy is coming. Be ready," the woman said to Captain Lark, portentous as usual.

He made a quick note on his pokédex. "Will do."

The Black Queen shifted, as if expecting more, and then she reformed into the charizard and shot into the sky. Matt smiled at seeing her discomfited for once, if only a little.

Lark watched her go. "Great, like I needed this. Maybe she'll die this time."

Matt sputtered, his head snapping around. "You… want her to lose?" he said, slowly. He seemed to be shocked that he was saying it.

"Do not do anything she says," Lark said. "It's the longest con on Gaia. Fucking mystics."

"Look, I don't like her either—I don't like her at all, but the Gray Prince is _real_ —"

"Oh, he's real, and he would be far less dangerous if not for her."

The three of them stared at him.

"…What?" breathed Matt.

"Without her he just steals a little from people who have some adept talent, and what happens to them? They get tired, they get sick." Lark grew conversational, happy that he had an audience. "The Wandering Fire kills people, sometimes, mostly he just hurts them. More people get hurt falling off of logs in Kanto where there's a ranger hobbling behind every ten-year-old with a bandage and a juicebox. But then _she_ shows up and it's fucking Ragnarok, it's miles of destroyed woodland or reef and villages burning to the ground, and he drains his victims fighting her."

"She's—don't tell me he's fucking _not that bad_ are you fucking joking—"

Lark frowned, turning stern. "She is just. As. Bad. I hope they both die, but I will accept either, and frankly I wonder what _she_ will do when he's dead."

"He kills people," Matt snapped. "Don't tell me he just—don't _fucking_ tell me—"

"What, do you know him or something?"

"He killed my friend! I've spent ten years—"

"Well, sorry. Look, I have to think about the numbers. I told you: my duty is to everyone. She has no loyalty, she has no duty, she just has the hunt. She will throw you into her war, same as him. He puts a drain on you, but he leaves you somewhere to sweat it out. _She_ tells you that you owe her and makes you fight. You will die, and she will not even break stride."

They stared at him, shocked.

"…And what are you still doing here?" He pulled out his pokédex. "O'Shea, can I get a junior up here to send these three lookie-loos home?"

"If you can't go find Russ the least you can do is let us help. We can speed up the fight!" Moriko said, trying another tack.

Captain Lark laughed. "You three will be about as useful as a fourth head on a dodrio." He counted on his fingers. "You don't know the techniques, you don't know our call signs, you don't have our training. We have to work together carefully to attack at effective range without putting ourselves at unreasonable risk. All of my rangers have drilled and flown live for hundreds of hours."

"I've been on a dozen expeditions, I'm an S-tier trainer—" Linden protested.

"Regardless of how good a trainer any of you are, you do not have the expertise to be here." He listened to something on his pokédex and shook his head, holstering it. "Look, I'll cut you a deal: you can stay in the ops tent and watch if you're quiet, and _behave._ "

x.x.x.x.x

Waiting for them at the operations tent were three legendaries, which instantly made this both the best and worst day of Moriko's life.

Chasseur-Droit and Chasseur-Gauche the mewtwo were there with Atlitzin the suicune. They were less famous than the heavy hitters in the elite pokémon tournaments, and few pokémon's names were as well-known as that of Primus, the first mewtwo, but they were still significant ranger-pokémon in their own right.

Droit was smaller and slighter, mew-like, while his sister was towering with a buck kangaroo's not-quite-human musculature and a calcified club on the end of her tail. Atlitzin had a paper cup clutched in one of her white streamer tails and was sipping coffee.

Gauche made a mental buzz, an indeterminate throat-clearing noise. "Heard you guys are having a rough day."

"You could say that," Matt said, eyeing them.

"We heard you got Nocturna to leave her gym. Thank you." Droit nodded to them. "It's been two years, someone said."

"We set the demon pokémon that was in there free, too, so you might not be thanking us in a little while," Moriko said glumly.

Gauche laughed. "We'll cross that bridge. In the meantime, I wanted to let you know that we hear you, and we're going to do what we can."

"Why aren't you going _now_?" Moriko asked, anger sparking as she looked up at the seven-foot-tall legendary. "Everyone telling us wait, wait—the Gray Prince is real! The scars he leaves on people are real! The deaths are real! Do you not know? Why is this such a low priority?"

Moriko jumped as Atlitzin crushed the empty cup and ate it. She rose to her feet, stretching.

"You tell me, kid. We're just as much in the dark," the suicune said.

Droit spread his hands. "The Ranger Corps takes the Prince seriously only when it comes to _not_ engaging him. Their policy is to avoid him and all the other higher-level demon pokémon entities unless absolutely forced to. I've been driving the Fire out of Kantonian cities for twenty years and wondering if maybe I should _let_ him go after people, just for them to take it seriously. As soon as he leaves town they lose interest."

"We know what they're like," Atlitzin said. "I've known for centuries. When this place was all pagodas I knew. The ranger higher-ups don't like when it turns out weird legends are real. I don't know why, I'm an old, weird legend and they cut me a paycheck every two weeks."

"The too-long-didn't-read is that we want to help you and we will," Gauche said. "But we have to neutralize the whiscash first. It could level Porphyry City with earthquakes or worse."

"He's dying, Gauche. Help him. Please."

Gauche sighed and took Moriko's hand; the mewtwo's skin was soft and rubbery, like a dolphin's. "This isn't a comfort, and in some ways it's worse: it is rare that he'll kill someone. But it's extremely common that he'll toy with them. Torture them. He may live. Hold on to that, alright?"

x.x.x.x.x

They watched the flights proceed on the viewscreens, piped in by camera drones: the gym leaders and elites and their acolytes, the ranger teams and ranger-pokémon, PRED soldiers and soldier-pokémon, all flying in formation to bombard the whiscash while dodging its weather and hazards.

The bombardment grew almost banal, proceeding with clockwork efficiency. The whiscash had no ability to avoid attacks or even react. It had not fainted only because of its enormous energy and stamina. The random movement of its waterspouts was the greatest danger; its absurdly powerful but agonizingly telegraphed attacks could do nothing but miss. Eventually it was like watching people bring down a wall with their bare hands: significant, but gods, so slow.

Fatigue had caught up with Matt, and he was curled up on Maia's side, out cold. The tibyss's eyes and spots shone in the dimness of the tent. Linden did not obey the order to be quiet, but no one hushed her: the technicians were bored too, eagerly answering her questions without taking their eyes off their screens. Vleridin rested at Moriko's heart, waiting, waiting.

She fell asleep eventually, because she was woken up by a buzz from her pokédex. She frowned; she thought she'd turned off nearly all notifications, and they had poor reception out here anyway—

 _1 new message – Russ (Pokédex)_

Her hands shook. _Don't open it. Don't open it. I don't_ —

But it could be information, it could be a clue, some hint, some weakness.

 _What do you want, you gray fuck_ —

It was a video message. Russ's face appeared, poorly contrasted.

"Moriko," Russ said, eyes wild, "Moriko, they're gone for a moment—tell the rangers—tell them where I am, Moriko, please, tell them, I can't connect—I'm running out of battery—help me—" He looked around and swore. "Get through you piece of shit—"

 _Message ends._

"Moriko—"

She jumped. Matt shrank back. She realized she was crying.

"What do I do?" she whispered.

The rangers wouldn't go. They had triaged it out and they would not go.

The tent erupted, multiple systems screeching and flashing harshly. The aura radar spiked way out of range, and the display flooded with out-of-bounds messages. One of the rangers tipped his chair over with a curse, and Linden jerked awake from her doze.

Another ranger spoke hurriedly into her headset, fingers flying over the projected keyboard. "Charlie Alpha this is Bravo One, do you copy? Three bogeys on radar zenith, aura four hundred, confirm. Over."

"Bravo One this is Charlie Alpha actual, confirm bogeys. All units full abort. Repeat: all units full abort. Over."

Camera drones scrambled, altering course to get close-ups of the whiscash. Two human figures had landed and were perched on its head as if on the prow of a ship. Something dark and winged was coming down out of the sky toward them; its outline blurred and melted into more winged shapes, and an enormous deepsea gyarados reared out of the water.

It was the Prince and the Fire and the Queen, and all her ensouled pokémon. Attacks started to pelt back and forth, shadow and fire, stone and water. The ranger techs were ignoring the show, speaking low and urgent to everyone who needed to hear.

A burst of energy knocked out drones and set monitors peeping as their displays garbled. When it cleared, there was something red and horned and burning on the whiscash, screaming out fire into the air. Hyper beams lanced back and forth in searing blue-white.

Moriko's vision shook. She had only one thought.

"Russ is unguarded," she said aloud.

They shot out of the tent. Moriko flung Liona's pokéball down, and the griffin pokémon reformed, already crouched to lift off.

Matt stopped, helpless. "I don't have a flying pokémon."

"Sylvia?" Moriko gasped out, climbing onto Liona's back.

His hands opened and closed. "…She could be hurt. How are you going to bring Russ back?"

Linden froze for a moment and then shoved her flygon's great ball at Moriko. "Help her, Myrmel! Go, Moriko! Run!"

They shot over the dark forest, Liona's wings pumping. The wind rushed past them as she manipulated it, thinned it and turned it behind her to fly faster and faster.

"We'll find him, Moriko!" Liona called back to her.

Moriko watched their position tick down to the coordinates that had been on Russ's message; they were nearly the same as what the gray man had sent. They came to a break in the trees, and Moriko could see something white and red lying in the grass.

Liona descended carefully. Moriko stayed on her back a moment, waiting, scanning with her pokédex. Nothing on the app but her pokémon… and Russ's. They were all there. Moriko trembled, nearly fell as she jumped down. She was crying again, shaking with terrible hope and relief and the sudden absence of terror—

Sylvia was lying in the grass too—

They weren't moving—

Moriko flung herself forward, breathing hard, nearly sobbing—they were all right, they were fine, they just fought with the demons and were a bit hurt, it was fine—

She took huge gulps of air and tried to calm down, checking Russ for injury—there was no blood—he was fine, he had to be—

 _demons could take human energy_

 _draining a pokémon's energy killed it_

Russ—

She put her fingers on his throat, tried to feel his pulse, but she was shaking too hard, teeth chattering. _Come on! Get it together!_

Something green, something steadying at her heart. _Calm, now, Moriko._

She felt his breath on her hands, and she just wept. It was all she had left.

"I'm sorry, Russ—come on, let's get you home—" she managed to say. She still wasn't sure what his injuries were, and jerked her hands away at the thought of spinal ones, tricky to regen. She should call Matt and Linden and get them to send a ranger at last with a board—

"Hello, Moriko," said a voice.

Moriko shot to her feet and threw down Rufus and Tarahn's pokéballs. Vleridin leapt out of her body in a burst of green light.

There was no one there.

The three of them stood around her as she scanned with her pokédex. No one, just them, just Russ's pokémon—

"Over here. Let me get a look at you."

A woman smiled at them. She was pretty and well-dressed, with her long hair framing her face.

"Do you remember me, Moriko?"

A face that the eyes slid off like oil. What color was her hair? Her skin? Her clothing? It was obvious, it was on the tip of the tongue, and then one looked away, drifted.

"Oh, my dear," she said, "you have great rage in your heart. You belong with me. You always have."

Moriko's eyes raked her face, again and again, uncomprehending.

"Who are you?" she managed to say.

"Long ago I had a name, a name that no one spoke. Fire-bringer, they called me, gift-giver, the Spirit of Wrath. Bane was I to queens and to devils. Armies would fall before those I had chosen. I am the raised hand and the falling sword. When a vixen fights a wolf for her kit I am there. When the horn sounds and spearpoints rise over the ridge I am there. When the earth trembles and brings forth fire I am there.

"I have a gift, a gift that I give but rarely, a gift of a clear eye, of heart's fervor unfettered at last."

She was smiling, but Moriko could not see her face. "Do you remember me?"

Moriko swayed.

There was an ember at her heart, and if she did not touch it, did not look at it, but held it suspended, it could never burn her.

"I gave them my gift when you were young. I let them see each other clearly. Did you see?"

"Shut up," Moriko said.

"Rise, Russell Scott," said the Spirit of Wrath. "Rise, Sylvia, wolf's daughter, dragon-born. See clearly."

There was a long, breathless moment, the shadows growing between the trees and the mist thickening. Gone was the sun; they stood in the memory of a day long past, overcast.

Autumn. The house by the brook.

Russ stood, he stood at last, his head and arms as limp as a puppet's, and as the demon let fall her hands he fell too.

Moriko rushed forward to support him. "Russ! What did she do? Say something, please!"

"Sylvia…" Rufus rumbled, following. The oxhaust knelt on the forest floor, and he stroked the borfang's limp shoulder, his broad armored hands gently mussing the fur.

Sylvia lunged for his neck.

Russ found his footing and grabbed Moriko's arm and yanked, throwing her to the ground.

The air thudded out of her. She was so confused, there must have been some mistake, in a moment Russ would help her up, Russ would take her hand and apologize, Russ would—

He grabbed her throat. She couldn't see his eyes, his face. What was he thinking?

It got dim, it got far away.

Tarahn yowled and tackled Russ, and Moriko could breathe again. She rolled, gasping, and something slashed at her and left red-hot lines on her back. She lurched, scrabbling to her feet.

It was Sylvia, fighting Rufus: her wings lashed out; her jaws left furrows in his armor; her claws skittered over it; her tail glowed with teal dragon-type energy and thudded on him. Her eyes were rolled into her head, sightless.

"Moriko!" Rufus called to her. He tried to hold Sylvia out at arm's length. "What do I do?"

Her vision swam. She was dazed; important information was beating on her brain, but it made no sense.

She saw Russ stand up, eyes rolled back, limbs dangling inhuman and grotesque, as if something had yanked on his strings.

"Knock her out!" Moriko forced out, and she stepped back, dodging clumsily, as Russ came for her again.

Vleridin snorted and put herself between Moriko and Russell, and she grunted as he struck her.

"Moriko! Why is he—?" Tarahn shouted.

"Thunder wave him! I don't—he's not—something's wrong!"

Tarahn reared up and cuffed Russ—no claws—sending him staggering, and followed it up with a pulse of yellow electricity. Russ fell, twitching, but kept trying to stand, his legs working furiously and driving his face into the dirt. He lunged, drawing his own blood.

"Russ! _Russ_!" Moriko heard herself saying. Begging. "Snap out of it!"

Rufus hit Sylvia harder and harder, and it still wasn't enough to get her more than a few feet away before she surged back, wrapping her claws and clawed wings around him and driving them into the spaces between his armored plates. His fists were a mess of green and black ichor.

Russ and Sylvia didn't speak; all she could hear was the violence of their breathing and the thuds and screeches of their blows. Rufus' breaths were starting to sound like sobs.

"Counter, Rufus! She has no control!"

Rufus blasted her back again and again, but he was panting from the cuts while Sylvia had no end to her furious energy. Vleridin summoned vines and wrapped them around Sylvia's neck and forelegs, and at last the oxhaust could use his greater weight to pin the borfang's flailing limbs.

"He sees you clearly now, Moriko," the Spirit said, from somewhere in the mist. "Do you want to see him?"

"Stay away!" she shouted back.

Tarahn thunder waved Russell again, and the two of them backed away. Russ kept coming, crawling.

"You will see him, Moriko."

The demon's voice came from behind them, and they spun. Nothing there.

"You will see him so clearly. Don't you want to? Don't you want to know? I can tell you, you know. I can tell you every secret. All is laid bare."

Russ punched Moriko in the face as she turned, and she dropped her head, limping away. It felt like nothing and then it felt like fire and ice; the blood ran down the curve of her lip and fell in the dirt. Tarahn headbutted Russ in the groin and pushed him down again, but he hit him and found his feet, oblivious.

"Vleridin, help! Rootbind!"

Gnarled vine shot out of the ground and curled around Russ's limbs, and he shredded his skin twisting out of them.

"There's no need to hold back, Moriko," the demon said. "No hesitation. No compunctions. No quarter. Just clarity."

"Get away from me!"

"Do you feel this, Moriko? You do. I know it. Your heart is so loud."

"Let him go! Stop this! I'll _kill_ you—"

"Do you see?"

Moriko fell to her knees; her skin felt hot, shot through with needles.

 _Moriko—what—_

The green anger at her heart turned red, turned white, turned searing, and

she wanted to hit something until her knuckles were raw and bloody

she wanted to bite something until her mouth was filled with blood and her teeth were loose

she wanted to drive her fingers into skin and eyes and dig out slithery organs and brain matter

she wanted to kill

she would kill

 _whatever  
_

 _was  
_

 _ **nearest**_

 _just like_

A clear tone rang out in the clearing; it chimed again, and louder, a sound as pure as sunlight. Moriko plunged into water, the hideous, hot feeling evaporating away in an instant.

The red mist cleared, and she was staring into Tarahn's horrified face.

"…Hi?" he said.

She slowly became aware that she was hanging in Vleridin's vines. Her whole body ached; her limbs felt wrenched from their sockets, and there was blood all over her face. She sniffed experimentally, spraying Tarahn, who flinched back in disgust.

"Sorry," she said, and winced. She probed around her mouth with her tongue, gods, what—

"I _may_ have hit you. You tried to bite me," Vleridin murmured.

Memory came back to her in a sick flash. "Where's Russ?" she asked desperately. "Where's the demon?"

Russell was lying on his side, breathing shallowly. Rufus stumped over after a moment, carrying the limp and battered Sylvia.

And that suffocating presence of the Spirit was gone.

Celeste stepped out of the trees.

For an instant Moriko didn't recognize her; for an instant she was as tall as the sky, horned and crowned and mailed in glittering scales and wreathed in shimmering feathers. But the moment passed and the celestiule was there in sunset colors. Moriko's head was pounding, and her body ached from the blows she'd taken.

"Rest, now, Moriko. Well done," Celeste said.

x.x.x.x.x

With the fight against the ancient pokémon disrupted, a few junior rangers were free to help them. They flew in on a transport to take Russell and his pokémon away. Matt and Linden came as well, and they lunged for Moriko, hugging her. She patted them awkwardly, dazed and sore.

"Moriko, what happened? Were there minor demons? I should have gone!" Linden said, looking at the dried blood on her face and groaning.

She shook her head. "I miscounted. There were three figures in the call. Celeste drove her off."

"Fuck, there was a third one? Who?" Matt asked.

"She called herself the Spirit of Wrath."

"Never heard of her."

Moriko took a deep breath. "I had. I think I had. Not by name, though."

Matt was about to say something, but Ranger-Captain Lark interrupted, swaggering off the transport. He clapped his hand on Moriko's shoulder.

"Very brave," he said. "Nearly-fatally stupid, but very brave."

Moriko showed her teeth. "Anytime, sir."

Lark laughed, and he beckoned them over to the jumpcraft.

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko lay down in the med tent after a swallow of painkillers and a spritz of potion. She was utterly, bonelessly exhausted, but her nerves were still jangling.

Vleridin shoved her velvet snout in her face. "Don't ever do that again," the mooskeg said.

"Do what?" Moriko asked, peering at her blearily.

Vleridin huffed and sank to her belly beside the cot. "Humans!" she said savagely. "You are too fragile to be permitted to go about—you die, or are permanently paralyzed by falls, by physical injuries, are burned, freeze to death—and you keep _us_ in pokéballs!"

Moriko laughed and studied the tent ceiling. "Well, what's the alternative?"

"What's—Moriko! When we fought the grendile, I took all the injuries, and so did she. You and Belladonna walked away untouched. Stay in my body! Walk with me! I can fall pierced at the heart and become energy and be well that evening thanks to humans. Your twig body has deep bruises from simple blows that will be days healing. Foolishness! Unutterable foolishness!"

Moriko smiled and put out her hand to scratch Vleridin behind her antlers. They'd avoided ensouling at first, unless it was necessary, but after the battle with Belladonna… Well, they'd spent so much time on trains… and then it'd started to feel normal.

She thought of the dreams she'd been having of swimming, of salt water and cool mud and deliciously green water plants, of battling friends—and foes, their blood in her mouth and on her hooves.

And she thought of how useful ensouling was and how no one did it, and she thought of the woman in black and her ten pairs of eyes.

She tried to say _I don't think we should do this anymore._ She didn't.

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N:** Hurocco was submitted to me by reviewer Julie 12 or 13 years ago. It was meant to get a bigger role in the story but it didn't quite gel. Sorry Julie!

I don't have the skill to render her properly, but there's an illustration of an... _aspect_ of the Spirit of Wrath up on my tumblr/deviantart, **gaiienpokedex** , as well as a picture of the Ranger Mewtwo, Droit and Gauche. Thanks for reading! Three chapters left. :)


	27. O M N I S U R F

**Changelog:** Gods and Demons Chapter 37. Edits for grammar, continuity, and exposition/clarification.

Chapter 25

 _OMNISURF / Down in darkness we found what sustains us_ _/_ _SkullGreymon_

 _ _—Aug. 26th, 128 CR__

Moriko awoke during the night to a pale radiance in the tent. Celeste was there, dozing, the moon and stars shining out of her glassy flanks. Outside it had grown cold, the wind swelling the polyfiber walls and the trees rustling, sharing secrets.

Moriko watched her a long time, thinking of the foal she'd watched hatch from an egg, whose first words had been "how dull". Duller than an egg?

 _She is what we call an old-soul._

Duller than dying?

"What are you, Celeste? …Stella?"

Celeste stirred, and she laughed. She flicked her tail, the long hairs glittering like starlight.

"Why couldn't you save him?"

Celeste looked at her, her eyes twin pearls on a skin of stars. "Oh, I did, eventually."

"You can stop the demons any time. Why don't you?"

"Not any time, and not for long. It's enough that they run. They might not if they knew how long I need to rest after using my power." Celeste regarded her a long moment. "Like most elder pokémon, I spend more time resting than battling," she added.

There it was. Moriko sighed, thinking of Vleridin's secrets. "Who did you kill, Celeste?"

"Surprisingly few for one who has seen eightscore and ten summers," she said lightly. "They were ronin in their first shedding, and I killed and ate them. They came for my herd. Turnabout. And there were a few that I killed that were not safe to eat." She pulled back her lips, unhorselike, and exposed pointed canine teeth. One of her parents had been a grimass, after all. "The rest of my strength I earned in the light of the sun and the dark of the moon and under starlight, and when death came for me I did what I had to do."

After a silence, Celeste said, "I remember when the third crossing came. I was far away, but I felt it. Nothing changed; no shift in the light or in birds' flight or in the sound of the waves, but I felt it. Like a wind, like a candle flickering in the draft from an opened door. I did not see a person of that crossing until much later, but I heard the rumors sooner, and I knew."

Moriko hugged her knees, listening, feeling history spool far away behind the celestiule. Some people liked to say that the second crossing and their kingdoms had been a more honest society, more real.

"Was it better? Was it better before we came?"

"There was more smoke then. More hardship. Famine. Too cold, too hot, too rainy, too dry. Not anymore. The third crossing is rich, and with your wealth comes arrogance. But you share your wealth. No one starves." She looked thoughtful, staring across decades. "I saw thousands starve, long ago.

"You should know that there is a price, Moriko, for living again. Never could I birth a child, and never will I. The line of my mothers ends with me. And I will join them at the heart of the world, one day."

"A woman of the second crossing we met"—gods, was that _yesterday_?—"said that ancient pokémon were caused by… death. Bad energy from the earth. How does that happen?"

"It is not known by any who now live. But this I will tell you: dead souls travel to the heart of the world, and they rejoin with those who were and those who will one day be. But some cannot make the journey, and they fester." She was silent. "Humans are not innocent, but… you do a great service, to destroy them."

"What did you do in the old days?"

"We ran, or we fought. And often we died."

x.x.x.x.x

The Wandering Fire and the Gray Prince fought the Black Queen all night. For all their disdain, the rangers and soldiers had watched her in shifts, white-knuckled and gasping as the camera drones picked up some dreadful blow that sent one of the demons or the mystic spinning into the air. Undocumented attacks were traded as energy spiked the aura monitors off-scale, and their field of vision narrowed as they lost drones to feedback and stray attacks.

As the sun rose, the woman in black was flagging, her ensouled pokémon pulled back to just the charizard. The Fire was resting simian-like on the wishcash, and the Prince's clothes were shredded, energy following him like afterimages. The rangers had data on their previous appearances spread over other computer monitors. Normally the gray demon would fight a little and then run, as he had in the desert, but he seemed to have enough energy at last to stand against her.

The ancient whiscash proceeded onward, oblivious, but it too was slowing. Great chunks of scale and blubber sloughed off as it calved like an iceberg under their stray attacks, exposing rotten bone and liquefied organs. An oily slick dotted with chum spread out behind it, and the sea was boiling with fish and seabirds eating the mess or each other, and even some water pokémon seemed to be trailing the fight for scraps of stray energy.

It swam on, but it was dying.

"Huge decline in aura on the ancient pokémon," one of the techs said. "Twelve milliiveys per second."

"This might be useful, to be honest," Ranger-Captain Lark said, gulping coffee. His staraptor was being outfitted for the day's flights. "That bastard is killing it. We should do this more often. Does anyone know any other mystics? Legendaries? Is Lightning Zulia around, Atlitzin?"

"Get bent, Lark," the suicune said.

"It'll be dead before it makes it to shore at this rate. Someone phone up Porphyry and tell them to chill out."

"And then we worry about our other guests," Dragut murmured.

"I was hoping we'd just mop up, but it looks like the old BQ is actually losing." Lark sighed. "Lord have mercy, I'm going to have to go out there and save her, aren't I?"

"If the Prince kills her and gets her energy we're absolutely fucked, Lark," Belladonna said sharply. "Saffron Town II no lineup no waiting. This is not the time to fuck around."

"Just banter. It dispels tension and makes me popular. We'll be out there in a few minutes."

"Imagine if he did. It would force us to take that weirdo seriously," Atlitzin said, pointed. "He's been a low priority for way too long."

"He didn't _do_ anything for so long," Lark said, a trifle defensively.

"The dead and energy-drained kids I've been mopping up say different," the suicune replied.

Ranger-Captain Petrel: "Are the mewtwo in position?"

"Ranger-Pokémon Gauche and Droit are standing by," a monitor confirmed.

"Droit, the Black Queen's aura will reach critical coalescence in twenty minutes, please relieve her for recovery," Petrel said into a headset.

Droit's camera flicked to life on one of the screens, and drones swooped in to watch the mewtwo. The two of them used disable fields to make the Gray Prince and Black Queen disengage, and then Gauche flew in, aiming a punch at the demon.

The aura monitor spiked as he warped around her fist. Ghost-type. He struck back with shadow punch, the purple energy bursting as he hit her just under her pectoral plate, and they all winced. A flamethrower burst from her hand, the blue and purple fire licking over his body. Shields flared around both of them, multi-layered high-level battlers' screens, the hits pulverizing even with them on.

Droit was trying to persuade the Black Queen to leave, presumably psychically as well as with a knobbly hand on her shoulder. Despite her wounds she kept turning toward the Prince, mechanical, compulsive, wings flapping as she hovered. Droit pointed toward mounted rangers far out of range, who had brought a healing net for the woman and her pokéball-less pokémon.

The Prince sent Gauche flying in the wake of a huge shadow ball, and the charizard jumped in again, blue fire streaming. The gray man summoned huge pointed stones out of nothing, and dodged her flamethrowers and ferocious flare blitz attacks. The shock waves were enormous, and the Prince's attacks left jagged purple rents in the air that closed up slowly and hurt the eyes, wounds on reality.

The two mewtwo worked together, finding the rhythm to jump in and attack where the woman was on the rebound. With two legendaries and the mystic against him the tide seemed to be turning; the Prince was slowing now, aura signal declining. He fell back to the ancient pokémon, landing beside the Fire, who covered his retreat with fire blasts.

Gauche and Droit were pulling at her, but the Queen followed him, diving in to charge the two demons.

The whiscash halted, groaning a basso note that the speakers could barely express.

Aura monitors screamed. Several bugged out with integer overflows.

The whiscash was sinking—

No—

The sea was sinking.

The whiscash plunged into shadow as the sea dropped out from beneath it, and it fell surrounded by walls of water as high as mountains. The drones moved above the appalling sinkhole to maintain the feed, but they saw nothing but the absolute darkness that lurked under the ocean, and the Queen, a blue flame, a star that sped down and down.

The water collapsed.

The parted sea exploded, its pressure released, the deceptively smooth surfaces collapsing like bombed buildings.

The shock wave sent the drones flying, video feeds cutting out or transformed into whirling, sick-making blurs of color. The monitors switched to drones farther out; the splashback was a kilometer high, the spray blotting out the sun.

Deathly silent, those in the ranger tent stared at the feed for a long time. Gauche and Droit levitated helplessly above where the ancient pokémon had gone down, the ocean turned into a churning vortex as water and air equalized.

"Tsunami," Matt said, leaping up. "That will make a tsunami!"

"They know," Belladonna said, tired.

She pulled Matt down by a belt loop on his trousers and pointed toward the screen where angry colors were being projected on a map of the Lacuna Sea. Activity resumed in the tent, the captains and rangers speaking fast and urgent to one another and into headsets.

The shock wave passed over the camp, distant gunfire and a rush of wind.

Messages sent, the tent erupted with harassed phone calls as Porphyry City demanded confirmation, and the captains all replied "Yes, fucking yes," in slightly politer terms. The whole Lacuna coast was in danger. Moriko thought of the people they'd seen out on the beaches during their journey, where pokédex reception was spotty, and icy fingers clamped around her heart. _Someone needs to tell them!_ Outside, psychics were materializing from pokéballs and teleporting away, bearers of a terrible message.

Gauche and Droit were hovering over the ocean as the vortex dissipated. On Belladonna's computer the recording of the sea opening up and crashing was playing on loop at double speed, the same instant of terrible force happening and happening.

Atlitzin touched it with one of her streamer-tails. "Every time somebody tries to cut our funding we show them one of these videos," the suicune commented. "It's quite convincing."

"People forget Saffron Town," Belladonna said. "They try to say it was terrorists or a false flag." She tried to drink from her empty mug and set it down after a clear moment of contemplation of throwing it. "It could have ended us, second and third both. Back on Terra it's a slow decline, but every year we have to fight for our lives." She looked down at her pokéball belt and laughed. "Not sure if I can recommend it."

Saffron Town had been the old Saffron City townsite that an ancient ho-oh had completely destroyed during the early days of the third crossing. The second and the third crossings had gotten along well at first, but... Saffron Town had been the main settlement. Losing it made them desperate, and everything else followed. Moriko looked at the monitor with Droit and Gauche on it: mewtwo, war-pokémon.

"Is Porphyry gonna be okay?" Linden was asking.

"The projections show a glancing hit there due to the bay, and the pokémon volunteers have been mobilized for several days because of the unusual tidal activity, but it's going to be bad. Just a ton of people there," a ranger said, his face illuminated by the computer screen. "And whoever gets hit along the Lacuna Sea. Lots of cabins and fishing spots in the fjords."

Peeping from the aura monitors.

"Incoming!" Crane said sharply into her headset.

They all looked at the body-cam monitors; the one for Gauche and Droit fuzzed and reappeared as they teleported away from the vortex.

The feeds from the drones showed the ocean boiling, deepsea silt and rocks and tar bubbling up, flung to the surface. A gyarados breached the waves, its head bent as it fired off a hyper beam at an underwater target.

The whiscash reappeared, finally, displacing water like a submarine. It was nearly broken in half, its spinal column exposed through its shredded tissue; naked ribs glistened in the sun where the rotten blubber had been stripped away.

It couldn't faint. No ancient pokémon could. No ancient pokémon could stop. You hit them until they couldn't move anymore, and when they died you burned them or covered them over with earth and concrete and tried to forget about them.

The Prince surfaced, supporting the Fire, and he threw the limp demon onto the whiscash's dorsal surface. The Wandering Fire stirred, and the two of them stared at the Black Queen, whose gyarados was glowing, struggling to take another form. Finally it receded and left the woman behind.

"Shit, she's done," Lark groaned.

"Droit, relieve the Black Queen if safe to do so," Ranger-Captain Petrel said into her headset.

"Acknowledged."

"Good news is, those two might be, too," Captain Lark said. "I thought I'd never see a yellow aura bar again—"

The ancient whiscash began to faint.

It dissolved under the demons' feet, falling upward in glittering motes. The glow spread outward, slowly and agonizingly, eating away at the daikaiju's vast bulk. But it didn't coalesce; the energy floated higher and higher and disappeared.

"What the fuck," Captain Crane breathed.

"Are you getting this?" Petrel said sharply to the ranger sitting at the aura radar.

One last transformation: the woman shifted into the charizard, not the mega form, and flapped toward the two demons. She aimed an air slash at them, the pale air-type energy scything down, and the Fire blocked it, feebly.

"Get her outta there, Droit, I've seen better battles outside elementary schools," Lark said into his headset. "Wing Alpha, Wing Delta, prepare to engage with maximum caution."

Again they heard the aura monitors spike, alarm frequencies increasing until they were shrill and continuous.

"Fucking—what now?"

The Prince was haloed in dark light; it dimmed and confused the drones' video feed, but it seemed that the whiscash's energy was redirected, coalescing after all—on him.

A pillar of shadow shot high into the sky, and when the feed cleared, the Prince—fell. He fell into the ocean, limbs writhing. The drones followed him down as he tumbled down what was left of the ancient pokémon's flank and disappeared into the sea.

Someone swore.

Lark: "Is he dead?"

The drones flew in closer. Nothing; the Black Queen was hovering, the Fire nearly collapsed. It struggled to its feet and turned slowly, turned away from the Queen to look behind it.

Something gray and hulking and armored leapt off the whiscash's back into the air. It clamped its steel jaws on the black charizard, dragging it down into the water.

The gray thing jumped out again. The Black Queen didn't.

The rangers were shouting. Gauche and Droit teleported in, Droit to the water's surface and Gauche underneath, and then they were both out again and fleeing away east.

Ranger-Captain Lark took off his headset and laid it on the table in front of him. "Holy fuck," he said quietly.

"All wings disengage, repeat, disengage, return to base," Petrel was ordering, rapid-fire.

Belladonna blew out her breath. "You got your wish, boss."

"What the hell is going on on that monitor?"

Technical talk followed this; Moriko couldn't read the swirling false colors or maps, but she could read a graph, and the way the aura plot had gone very nearly vertical couldn't be good.

"Looks like he just became our problem," Atlitzin said.

Moriko's pokédex buzzed with new PRED warnings until she gave up and turned it off.

"We've never seen the Prince's pokémon form before," Belladonna said softly, replaying the drone feed and staring at the gray and violet shape while it leapt over and over. "He could resist the Queen _without_ it. Fuck. Fuck."

She turned, her eyes sweeping the room until she found the three of them.

"You need to go," Belladonna told them, a far cry from her manic and careless affect as a gym leader. "This isn't a joke. You are in so much danger."

"Let us _help_ ," Moriko pleaded.

Belladonna shook her head. "You could maybe have helped against the whiscash, if we'd had time to teach you a basic bombardment drill. Against the Prince you will die." She looked around at the ranger-captains giving rapid orders. " _We_ are going to die with these spread-out teams."

"The scope of this op is fucked," Atlitzin added, joining them. "Ancient pokémon are like fighting drunk giants, they're slow as shit, and you can get out if you're not dumb. The Gray Prince is just going to AOE and fucking kill us. We need reinforcements and the champions. Come on."

The three of them left the tent, following the suicine. As they approached the jumpcraft landing, the two mewtwo flew in and touched down at a medical tent. Gauche laid the woman in black on a stretcher and removed the healing cage. A light budded off of the woman's body and formed into a gallade, who promptly began to heal her.

"M…Moriko. I hope you are well," the woman said tightly. She was covered in blood, chunks of hair ripped out of her scalp, and her clothes ragged and hanging off her thin body. A big wound in her stomach pulsed, the blood seeping out over her rigid, clawlike hand. Her goggles were gone, and her red eyes were wide and staring. Her eight extra pairs were too, migrating over her body and linked by dark, bruise-colored energy.

The human _could_ be hurt, it seemed. Moriko felt Vleridin watching.

A ranger med team rushed up to Gauche and Droit, but they both pointed toward the Black Queen. The team almost grudgingly started to work on her, several more pokémon joining on heal pulse duty. She started to look better, a little less ashen and skeletal.

"Well well," Captain Lark said, approaching. "He got the better of you this time. Never seen him become a pokémon."

The woman ignored him. "Moriko," she said instead.

She flinched as all of the woman's eyes turned to her, speared her.

"Where is Russell?" the woman asked.

"I…" She looked at the med tent. "I think he's in there, resting."

She nodded. "He needs to be moved. He has the darkwater in him, the god's blood. My enemy will come for him. It calls to him."

"…Say again?" Lark asked slowly, his subordinates all flinching at the tone.

The woman didn't notice. "He's coming."

Lark whirled and began speaking urgently into his pokédex; several of the med techs took off into the camp at a full run. Jumpcraft engines started powerup cycles somewhere in the landing clearings beyond the trees.

"Evac is over there," the suicune said, nodding toward the noise. "Come on, 'twos, I bet we're on the annoyer team." She trotted off, Gauche and Droit leaping into the air and away.

"Let's go, or we're not gonna get a good seat," Linden piped.

Matt looked at Moriko, who shrugged. "Give me a minute. I'll meet you there."

Moriko sat and watched the woman, the pokémon glowing with sunset colors as they healed her, the cuts shrinking and drawing closed. One by one they were finishing up and leaving to look for their trainers.

"He had Russ for hours," Moriko said to her, when it was just the gallade left, tall and severe with arms like ceramic swords. "Why didn't he drain him then?"

The Black Queen grunted as a bruise faded, her extra eyes starting to thread back to her face. "He did. He didn't finish. He likes to savor the moment."

Moriko closed her eyes. _I'm sorry, Russ. I'm sorry._ "Russ was bait," she said to the woman.

Rangers were grabbing equipment, leaving the tents behind.

The woman looked at her.

"You left the darkwater in him. You did it to draw out the Prince."

The woman watched her like she was some kind of bug, with mild interest and total disregard.

"How can you do this? And don't give me that needs of the many shit."

"I will do anything to stop him," the woman said, with an air of prophecy, of deadly finality. "The rangers have been careless of him for too long."

Moriko swept her arm out at the sea. "Did you do this? Did you summon the whiscash to trap them?"

The Black Queen laughed, and for an instant she sounded like a girl, like someone Moriko's age. "No one has that power. It was luck—the gods were with me at last." Her face shifted, her expression turning stricken. "Though... perhaps not. He... he took the giant's energy."

Gauche and Droit flew in, their bodies glowing with psychic power.

"Come with us, Moriko," Droit said. "He's on his way."

Gauche helped the woman stand, and she swayed. The gallade jumped back into her body. She wasn't completely healed; Moriko saw blood trickle down her torso through her ripped clothes.

"Moriko," the woman said. "I have a gift for you."

"Fuck off," she said reflexively.

Something glittered between the woman's fingers, and she flicked her hand.

Moriko caught it. Iridescence swirled in the polished stone. It was a keystone, a mega focus.

 _You should see what you're capable of, sometime,_ Belladonna had told her.

Droit lifted her gently, and she felt giddy for a moment, forgetting everything, as she arced into the air and over the trees with the two mewtwo and the Black Queen. It ended too soon. Gauche helped the woman onto a jumpcraft, and Droit left to perform some other errand.

Moriko watched the rangers, well-trained, well-disciplined, all on the edge of panic. Had Russ been loaded onto the medevac already?

The rangers had power and teamwork, expertise, discipline. And they were scared of the Prince. They were rushing to leave. Weaker pokémon could work together to fight the ancient pokémon, they'd said, but the Prince would just sweep them all out of the way like the tide.

Were they going to make it?

She saw fear on the young rangers' faces, people not many years older than her. The Prince was coming for Russ, coming for them, coming for all of Gaiien.

What could _she_ do, against all this?

 _I will give them everything. Let their bones be my bones. Let their breath be my breath._

 _What will you do, surrounded by monsters?_

 _Anything._

What had Gaiien given her? A pain in the ass, blisters, traveler's diarrhea, dead kids, sick and violent gym leaders; it had held her hopelessly behind until she had fewer badges than eighth-graders from other regions.

And yet. The wide open sky. Mountains like giants' bones. The darkness under the earth. A prayer, passed down the centuries to her. Rufus and Tarahn, Liona and Vleridin and Thana. Russ and Matt and Linden Jr.

So.

They needed to be protected. Everyone said the Gray Prince liked to toy with his prey. He had toyed with Russ. He wanted to see her. She could give them time.

She found Matt and Linden preparing to board another craft. She looked at Linden and mimed taking something out of an inner pocket. Linden stared back for a moment and then patted her coat and nodded.

Matt looked between them. "What are you thinking?"

"About misbehaving," Moriko said.

x.x.x.x.x

"Belladonna! I need a favor."

"I love when people owe me," Belladonna said, strapping into her seat. "Right now we're in the middle of what might be the second biggest supernatural crisis of third crossing history, so—"

"Do you have an unlinked mega stone?"

"'Hey Bella, I'm a grade schooler, can you spot me a two hundred thousand yen favor—'"

"The Prince is coming. I could slow him down."

"The _senior rangers_ are going to slow him down, they have the coordination and training—"

"Bella—"

"Cousin. No games." Belladonna looked her in the eye. "No persona. Listen to me. We are going to fly to safety. If you engage him alone you will die."

"I have a secret weapon."

"Moriko, I'm an adept. There are adepts in the ranger corps and more with PRED. You're not special—"

"I have a demon master."

Belladonna stared at her for a long, long time.

She toggled the release on her seatbelt.

"…I'm listening," she said.

x.x.x.x.x

"You are going to your death," Droit told her, the psychic words gentle. "I can't protect you."

Moriko held the mewtwo's hand. Humans had made mewtwo, made them for war. _And they'd protected us from ourselves, though we didn't deserve it._

"I know," she said. "But I might make it. I might make it for a little while. And that's more time for them."

"You're too young for this," Droit said.

They were flying over the waves, iron-gray under the overcast sky. Moriko let the wind blow through her hair, thought of a day under gray skies at the house by the brook.

"I expected to die, suddenly, just like my family," Moriko said distantly. "I have always expected it. Maybe it will at least be useful."

Droit set her down on a spit of land, and she felt a faint tingling as her body was wreathed in barriers.

"Fight defensively," the mewtwo said. "Hold out and weaken it, and we'll join you when we can." Droit flew away, a pale purple blur, and then nothing.

Moriko stood alone. The wind was screaming out of the north, the bushes on the tiny island all bent to its wrath, and she waited.

Not everyone could perform mega evolution. Pokémon and trainer each needed a stone, a shard of a strange mineral that could create a conduit for energy to flow between the two, the human being's vast energy flooding in and triggering the temporary form.

If you did it right. The energy could flow the wrong direction or not at all; your pokémon could go wild, uncontrolled. The stones were expensive, the human's keystone many times over. It was a thing for elite trainers, financed by leagues and tournament sponsors; who knew where the Black Queen had got hers? Top trainers were given a slow introduction to the process over multiple days by masters in a controlled environment.

Well, this was anything but that.

But she was an adept; she had shared energy with her pokémon before. And an adept ensouling a mega-evolved pokémon?

 _That_ was power, Belladonna had said.

 _Are you ready, Rufus?_

 _Yeah._

She could see the smudge of the whiscash's carcass, far in the distance. She saw movement; something flew toward her, growing. Wreathed in flame.

"The Fire is coming after me," she said into her pokédex.

"We'll engage the Prince," said Droit, his spoken voice strange with the vowels too round and buzzing with a bird's grating pharynx. "Good luck."

Moriko put her pokédex away, and she threw down Rufus's pokéball. He glanced at her, trusting, and he looked out at the Fire, his own flames flaring. She held the mega focus in one hand and the mega stone in the other.

"Let my bones be his bones. Let my breath be his breath," she whispered, watching the Fire.

She thought of the Spirit of Wrath and the thread of blood that had stabbed through all her years. The devil told the truth, now and then, to sweeten the lies. "Let my rage be his rage," she said, and the mega stone shone like a star.

And Rufus cringed away.

 _Moriko_ —

 _There's no_ time! she thought, grabbing for his energy, flinging wide the path between them, her soul-fingers stabbing into him like knives.

It wasn't as easy as it was with Vleridin: she was too tall, too heavy, her bones cracking, her throat filled with ash. Steel stabbed up through her skin and screeched as it changed shape. The fire seared and tickled and she spat it out in a burning rush.

The pipes shifted on her back, and her armor grew flanged and aerodynamic. Sometimes mega evolution changed you a little. Sometimes it changed you a lot.

Stronger, lighter, finer-boned, Moriko-Rufus roared, baring her fangs, and she charged at the Wandering Fire. She lifted off, green fire streaming behind her as she flew.

She hit it like a meteor, and it fell into the water, leaving a slick of oily black blood on the surface; the water boiled, and it shot out again. She dodged the scald and let the flame build up in her chest, expelling a fire blast that exploded over the aricaust.

Flying was everything; flame streamed out behind her and out of her hands as she hovered and strafed and wove around its attacks.

"Slow!" she taunted it. "Gods, is this the Wandering Fire of legend? I could eat you, but my doctor said to avoid spicy food."

It bared its pointed teeth, fire and ash streaming off its body and its glowing curling horns, but it said nothing. Not a chatterer like the Prince.

Moriko-Rufus charged again, armored fists cracking the black spikes on the aricaust's forearms as it raised them uselessly. She pummeled it, merciless, its horns and spikes breaking and spinning off into the air and dissolving in dark light. It breathed fire and belched magma onto her, but she slapped it away or dodged or returned with flame of her own, burning as green as leaves.

It tried strategy at last, twisting her energy in a torment technique, but it didn't bother her: she had a dozen attacks, generations of certainty spilling out behind her. The Fire struck her with fists shimmering with darkness: foul play, to turn her strength against her, but it was obvious it had almost never used the technique.

"Never not been the strongest pokémon in the room, huh? Surprise!" She linked her fists and hit it hard in the head, driving it into the water again.

It was even slower as it hauled itself out of the ocean onto the little island. The spit of land had been ruined by the battle, covered in smoking glass where magma had touched the sand, and the cinders of burned vegetation.

Moriko-Rufus landed and cuffed the aricaust. She aimed a casual double kick at it, her hoof catching it hard in the belly.

"You thought you were facing the scared trainers from the desert, didn't you?" she said, driving her fist into the Fire's back as it shuffled away. "Demons! I'm ten times the pokémon you are."

It spat blood, glowering at her.

"Say something!" she snapped, her mood changing like a switch. "You followed us—kidnapped Russ—Well! Look who's laughing now!" She punctuated each thought with a blow.

The Wandering Fire watched her through its slotted goat eyes, and all at once it stood, flexing its arms, and a wave of force pushed her backward a few paces.

"You aren't ready. You are afraid," it said, in a voice like the heart of a volcano.

"Aren't ready for what? To kill you?" Moriko-Rufus licked one of her thumbs and tasted the aricaust's acrid, smoky blood. "We're a long way from there, buddy, but we'll see how you're feeling when I close the distance some."

The Wandering Fire put out its clawed hand as she charged, and it twisted.

Her vision tore. Rufus stumbled, falling, disoriented. Moriko hit the ground, yelling, twisting away from the hot rock and burning ash. She scrabbled to her feet, nauseous.

The aricaust towered over her.

"Fool child. You should have stayed away." It raised its fist, and fire surged out of the rock spikes on its arm.

Moriko jerked away at the shock of heat from the hellfire. _Shit. Shit._

She ran for the ocean. Vleridin surged up and summoned water to soak her. It had boiled the sea. She didn't stand a chance.

"You will die."

Rufus lurched forward, his body twisting and shrinking around him as the mega evolution dissipated, and he swiped at the Fire. It ignored the blows; it hit Rufus in the chest with one arm and crushed him, the armor stoving in and his flames gushing out haphazardly.

"Rufus! Vleridin, we—"

 _Moriko—_

Rufus' fist shot out, glowing with fighting-type energy. Counter.

He hit the demon in the jaw, snapping back its head with a crack of bone.

"Don't touch my trainer," Rufus gasped.

The Wandering Fire collapsed in a heap, limbs twitching and its head at an unnatural angle. Magma oozed from its mouth; dark-type energy crackled in random bursts.

It dissolved into energy. A sphere was left, roiling black and red, and it darted from side to side, fearful.

Moriko panted, watching the ball until it was obvious it wasn't going to reform.

"Rufus! Rufus, holy shit—"

The oxhaust limped toward her and nodded. He was wheezing from pain and the hits to his chest; she cracked a new bottle of potion and started spraying him down. It closed up the cuts, but he needed a real healing. He looked like he'd been in a car accident, as the car.

Moriko looked toward the horizon for the whiscash or the mewtwo and their battle, but she couldn't tell which direction was which. She was dizzy, color bleeding and receding as she looked around, and she tried to concentrate, to just breathe normally.

Mega evolution had made the whole thing weird. Why had she said all those things, why didn't she just—

Remembering the Fire, she turned toward the fainted pokémon again. There was nowhere it could hide out here. She drew out an ultra ball from her pocket. Another demon for the professors?

The energy sphere shot away with new purpose, and it met the Gray Prince rising out of his shadow.

x.x.x.x.x

 **A/N:** :) Two left. A drawing of the Prince's pokémon form, and of Mega Oxhaust and the other starter megas are up on my tumblr/deviantart, **gaiienpokedex**. Big thanks to the reviewers on the previous version.


	28. The Gang Fights the Devil Part II

**Changelog:** Gods and Demons Chapter 38. Small edits for grammar and continuity.  


Chapter 26

 _The Gang Fights the Devil Part II / She'll find you and she'll kill you_

 _ _—Aug. 26th, 128 CR__

Moriko watched the Gray Prince rise, tall and burned and ragged, a bandit king with filthy iron-gray hair and amethyst eyes. He surveyed the scene: a wasted island, a pokémon trainer with a hurt starter and melted shoes, and a fainted demon opponent.

He'd gotten away from Droit and Gauche, or driven them off. He couldn't be in good shape, but neither was she; Moriko felt all of yesterday's injuries, half-healed with potion. Russ's blows stung, and the ones she'd self-inflicted under the Spirit's influence burned hot and cold.

The Wandering Fire's energy remnant whisked toward the Prince and leapt into his hands. He cradled it briefly before it disappeared somewhere into his body.

"I've got you," the Gray Prince muttered. He turned his attention to her. "Not bad, Miss Moriko," he called out. "No one's fainted him in decades."

Moriko raised the mega stone and focus toward Rufus, not taking her eyes off the Prince. "Let's go, Rufus. One more time. We need to go."

"I can't," the oxhaust sobbed, speaking at last. "I can't again—"

"Ru—what—"

Moriko recalled him, and she splashed into the surf.

 _Vleridin—_

 _Moriko, I can't—he's doing something—_

She just stood there, uselessly.

"Looks like you're out of tricks," the Gray Prince purred behind her. "I'll take you to Russell."

"Fuck you."

"Please, I'm only trying to be gracious. I've gone over and above for you all, and what do I get in return? Scorn, and you side with my enemy. Russell has stolen something of mine. You might as well come watch me collect it."

"I'd never help you. Leave us alone!"

"Help me with what? I know where he is."

He gestured, and Moriko's stomach flipped in fear as she was hoisted out of the water into the air, limbs dangling.

"Much better. Shall we?"

They rose into the air above the island, and the Gray Prince took her hand as they levitated, like some absurd parody of a rooftop scene in a movie. He grinned at her, the utter shit; his hand was damp and freezing, like something dead at the tideline.

"Where did you find my blood, anyway?"

Moriko stared out at the horizon.

"Don't be so glum! You'll all live through this."

"Fuck you."

The Gray Prince dropped her.

Water forced its way up her nose as she struck the sea, and she fought for the surface— _No! Run!_ was Vleridin's opinion, and she gathered seawater around herself to propel her away, anywhere—

Vleridin screamed as the Prince shoved her away, back into Moriko's body. He swiftly hauled Moriko back out of the water, her green hair plastered to her face and her boots sloshing.

"I'm not sure why you all are so _combative!_ " the Prince said, continuing as if nothing had happened.

 _I will drink your blood, I will smash you to pieces and take my time doing it, I will leave your bones in a dry place that no one will ever see—_

"It's such a mild inconvenience. You're advancing a noble goal, you know."

Even through her shock and rage and Vleridin's rage, she had to know. "What goal?"

"You don't know?"

She was already soaked. "I mean, I've just been assuming it's because you're a colossal asshole."

"Hah. It's to make me king."

"King of what?"

"Everything."

Gaiien's shore appeared and they rose, flying above the treetops. The Prince sped up, the wind whipping past. They came at last to the remains of the ranger camp.

"I thought they might leave him behind," the Gray Prince said, gesturing toward one of the tents. "That's their usual triage. The needs of the many. Let's go see him."

The Prince let her go again, and she fell to the ground, legs jelly after that long suspension above the ocean. He smirked at her as he landed delicately and strode off.

The trap sprang to life, electricity arcing and the bubble shield snapping closed around him. He turned to shadow as quick as a blink, darting out and hitting its confines.

"Light him up," Belladonna called.

Blue lightning flared as plasma and electron beams filled the trap, an energy level certain to force an ordinary pokémon to faint. The Gray Prince shimmered with reflect and light screen, with mirror coat, and the lightning ceased suddenly as the trap's failsafes were triggered.

Moriko thought of Liona's brother trying to escape his trap, a million years ago. There was no sound as the Prince struck the inside of the barrier. He dropped into his shadow and slid around the shielding, and finally subsided to stand at the center of the bubble and sneer knowingly.

"Gray target under containment," Belladonna said into her pokédex. "All units remain at highest alert."

Droit landed, supporting Gauche, who was covered in cuts and bruises; the smaller mewtwo didn't look much better. The two of them hobbled up to the bubble.

"Huh. Two for one," Droit said.

"Gotcha, bitch," Gauche said to the Prince. She mimed shooting a gun and bared her teeth, grinning. Droit drew her away toward the remaining healing machine, far from the clearing.

Belladonna and Matt left their bulwark with Atlitzin, who began to reinforce the containment for transport. Huge cables clanged into place on the shield platform as the suicune manipulated them, charging the shield with the blue glow of her energy.

Belladonna stretched, probably stiff from doing nothing this entire time. "Not bad, Moriko," she said. "Looks like I won't charge you interest for that mega stone."

Moriko shivered, looking for hand warmers in the supplies nearby. "Anytime," she said, teeth chattering. "I think it's broken, anyway. It was… I don't think Rufus liked it." She grimaced.

"It can take you that way sometimes." The gym leader shrugged. "So! This is the Gray Prince. Nice to meet you. I've heard _so much_."

"At last, someone with manners!" The Prince's voice was distorted through the energy shielding. "Belladonna of Porphyry City. An honor," he said, making a theatrical leg.

Belladonna leaned toward the bubble. "I can't wait to see what they do to you," she said. She licked her lips. "I hope it takes a long, long time."

"As the lady commands," the Prince said, mirroring her. "Ah—Matthew! Come here! I just wanted to see you again, you know."

Matt turned away, disgusted, but the Prince called after him.

"Matthew! All this could have been yours! It can still be, you know—just let me out. I know you can."

Matt whirled. "Fuck _off._ You don't have anything to give! I didn't want it! I never wanted it!"

"You did, or my curse would never have worked," the gray man sang.

"The curse is you," Matt said, that outrage from back in Port Brac creeping into his voice. "It was always you! Everything you ever told me was a lie!"

"Are you sure?"

"Fuck you!"

"Observe these ungrateful souls!" the Prince spread his arms, proclaiming to Belladonna as she bustled around the trap, adding fittings with Atlitzin. "I am but an instrument. I grant wishes, Matthew. And you were a fool, are a fool, ever a fool, to reject my gifts. But you are right about one thing. I tell lies." He looked over at Moriko. "I'm sorry, Miss Moriko. I lied to you."

The trap exploded.

Moriko hit the ground hard. She thought she saw something huge and metallic fly over her, but she also saw colored stars exploding on blackness for a while too. She finally sat up, head pounding, as the Prince sucker punched Droit so hard that he was hurled into the trees amidst a shockwave of purple ghost-type energy.

There was a wide crater surrounding where the trap had been. Trees had been knocked down, metal and poly-composite and wire driven deep into trunks and stones. A blue orb streaking away into the trees to hide might have been Atlitzin. Moriko couldn't see Matt or Belladonna or Gauche.

Where were the rangers?

Moriko tried to get behind a rock, some debris, anything, but as she tried to move she thought she might vomit.

The Prince rose out of the crater. He ignored her; he walked off toward the last few tents. Where Russ was.

 _Moriko! Just—relax for a moment—_

Vleridin surrounded her gingerly, as if she was hot to the touch. That once-delicious green feeling was distant and insubstantial, but at last she could stand, her injuries far away.

Vleridin-Moriko picked down behind the Prince as stealthily as they could. A couple of healer pokémon saw him coming and debated, wavering, before making a run for it. The Prince ignored them too.

He pushed into the med tent where Russ was.

 _What can we do?_

 _I don't—I can try to shield him—_

The Prince took his time; he wandered around the tent, pocketing supplies. With a shrug he shed his half-burned tangzhuang and stole a ranger's jacket. He swiped energy bars and ate lunch leftovers indiscriminately, and he looked like he needed them.

At last he came to Russell's bedside. Russ was alone; Sylvia had been taken for intensive healing and the other pokémon with her.

"I wish we had met under better circumstances, dear Russell," the Prince murmured to him, "although you unfortunately lack your friends' talents and usefulness. I admit, I am quite upset with you for stealing my blood, but I'm sure you didn't really know what you were doing or who you were taking from. Please don't be alarmed. I'm doing you a favor, in fact. You'll feel better afterward. Probably."

The Gray Prince put his hand on Russ's chest. There was a moment of stillness before Russ's limbs went rigid, his back arching and his eyes opening wide to stare at nothing.

A terrible emptiness filled the room; it felt like gravity had shifted, pointing inward and down, and there was a sense of a yawning, ravenous hunger—

 _Vleridin—_

 _I know! I know! We—_

"Come see, Miss Moriko," the Gray Prince said.

He crooked his finger, and Vleridin-Moriko jerked, forced to walk stiff-legged into the tent. After a moment he gestured and hurled the tent fabric away, letting the overcast, diffuse sunlight shine on them.

Black bubbles were beading on Russ's hands and arms, on his lips and at the corners of his eyes. They grew, floated upward, their opalescent soap-skins shining for a brief moment before coalescing. The Gray Prince's thin, ashen hand pressed harder on Russ, tendons standing out.

"Stop this," Vleridin-Moriko said. "Stop it!"

"I think you know what it feels like to be incomplete," the gray man said, confiding, the flamboyance suddenly missing from his voice. "That sense that something has been stolen from you, something unbelievably precious. Something worth dying for. Something worth killing for. Do you want to kill me, Moriko? Do you, mooskeg?"

"I would kill you and follow you to hell so I could kill you again there," they snarled. "Let him go!"

"In just a moment. I am not wasting time," he said, the black blood streaming toward him. "Something was stolen from me a long, long time ago. _I_ was stolen from me. But I was patient. One by one the guards fell to ash and entropy and madness. Bit by bit I found myself. And now I am remembering myself. I am remembering _them_. I am remembering everyone. There are worlds beyond this one. Did you know? Can you imagine?"

The Gray Prince turned and froze Maia in the air in mid-leap, her mouth open and stretched in a grotesque snarl, and he let her fall to the ground on her rigid limbs. Matt staggered into view, dragged out.

"Bow to me," the Prince said, and he gestured and forced Matt to his knees. "You are unnecessary. But she took you away from me. No one shall take things from me. Not again. Not ever."

Matt gasped. Under soul-sight the gray webs were building on him, the Black Queen's shielding suddenly brittle, shattering away into dustmotes.

The Prince kept one hand outstretched at Russ, the black blood drawn into it faster and faster until the bubbles started to shrink, until there was just a thin stream of black pearls flying out of Russ's supine form.

All at once they stopped. The Prince relaxed, and so did Russ, pale and limp on the cot.

The gray man flexed his arms, and then he smiled widely and kicked Maia into the air, hundreds of pounds of tibyss hurled like a ragdoll.

"Did I not keep my promise, Matthew?" the gray man purred, his usual voice returned.

He glided over to where Matt kneeled, frozen, and he touched Matt's face and put his fingers under his chin to make him look the Prince in the eye.

Matt shuddered, a wave through his whole body.

"Didn't I?" the Prince said. "Are you not strong, a strong trainer with strong pokémon? I gave you the tools to be rich, to be famous, to be beloved on the tournament circuit—and this is how you repay me, ungrateful, with threats and excoriation? Have I not been a friend to you, Matthew?"

"Bring Sam back, you fuck, you chokeslime," Matt forced out, past the paralysis.

"I grant wishes, dear Matthew," the Gray Prince said. "They would not have been granted if they had not been your _heart's desire_."

"Sam was my heart's desire," Matt snarled.

"No, she wasn't."

The Prince shaped his hand into a claw, gray and long-taloned, and he stabbed Matt's shoulder. Amid Matt's choked screaming, he regarded the red blood for a moment, and then he moved his claws to Matt's neck.

And he froze. The long, mocking leer of his eyes faltered; he was looking into the distance at nothing. His limbs jerked, pulling at some invisible restraint.

Linden was behind him. In her outstretched hands was the paraslit, its eyes glowing and its tiny mandibles working.

It couldn't take the legendary's energy, but it could take the man's.

The Prince staggered away from Matt, taking weakening steps toward Linden. He slumped and fell to his knees, his eyelids drooping and limbs numb. He scrabbled in the dirt, trying to rise.

Matt got to his feet and ran into the forest after Maia. Vleridin-Moriko slid apart and stood together, watching the Prince writhe.

The paraslit was growing larger and larger, glowing with energy. Linden stared at the Prince, her expression triumphant. She watched the aura tick down on her pokédex.

"Belladonna! Now!" Linden said.

The mechanical hum of a generator filled the air; there was a pop and a whoosh, and an electrified net landed on the Gray Prince. A couple of armored rangers ran forward and dropped to one knee, raising guns that shot spiked leads, and he gave a warbling scream as they hit. After a moment beads of pale purple ghost-type energy were flowing along them.

"Gray target beta containment achieved," Belladonna's voice came from their pokédexes.

The Prince had nothing to say, spread-eagled, chest heaving.

"Gods," Moriko breathed. "Did it work? Is Russ okay?"

A medic and a healer pokémon were already checking on Russ. Senior rangers and ranger-pokémon, and PRED soldiers and soldier-pokémon were filling the clearing.

The paraslit had swelled larger and larger until it was nearly beachball size and making tired, squeaky noises, and finally Linden pulled it away. They watched the Prince for a moment, but there seemed to be no change in his containment. She trotted up to Moriko and patted it affectionately.

"See? What did I tell you?" she said cheerily. "Traps don't work on hybrids! But _this_ guy does."

Moriko smiled despite the headache amplifying in the center of her forehead and her soaked boots. "You did it, bud."

Matt rejoined them, walking painfully. He looked like shit, his wounds seeping from a half-assed potion application, and his shirt hanging off in ribbons. "Are you two alright?" he said to her and Vleridin. "When Droit and Gauche had to abort, I—"

She wondered how bad she looked. "No, it's fine, it was like we thought—he wanted to mess with me first. Maia's okay?"

Matt grimaced and held up her pokéball. "Fainted. Broken bones. Rufus? Did he mega evolve?"

"Yeah, we fought the Fire. We were beating it, but it—did something and broke our ensoulment. That's when it went to shit." Moriko pressed on her eyes with the heels of her hands, her legs trembling as she remembered the Wandering Fire's terrible, hard look. "Holy fuck. Hooooly fuck I was scared."

Linden put her arm around her waist, and Matt hugged her shoulders; Vleridin didn't want to be left out and snugged up close behind them. She hugged them back; she felt like her heart was slowing down for the first time in days. She felt like she was going to cry.

"Holy fuck, you guys," Moriko breathed. "What even was this journey?"

"Team Did Not Die 1, Monster Murder Hoboes 0," Linden said. "Are we gonna gloat? I think we should gloat."

"Gloating or Russ?" Matt asked.

Moriko's stomach roiled; she looked at Russ's cot and the press of medics around him and felt it like a blow, like she would be sick.

"Let's let them work," Matt decided, watching her. "What do you think?"

She nodded mutely, and the four of them hobbled over closer to the Gray Prince in his second prison. Ranger-pokémon were adding to the imprisoning net with disable fields and paralysis, and other pokémon and techs were rapidly assembling a new bubble shield to transport him in. Rangers were having conversations Moriko couldn't follow about logistics and energy levels while PRED soldiers stood guard with their guns trained on the Prince, wide-barrelled for anti-pokémon rounds.

Through it the Prince was on the ground, limp and gasping. His mouth moved faintly.

"Numbers," Belladonna was saying.

"Huge hit to his aura," a tech said. "Within the scale as soon as the critter hit him and still dropping. He'll faint soon and we'll—"

"I don't…" the Prince muttered. "I don't…"

The ground lurched; a couple hastily-set-up monitors toppled, and everyone staggered, shouting.

"What the hell was that? The whiscash?" someone yelled.

The light in the campsite clearing dimmed; wind rushed through the trees, suddenly dark and looming. Leaves and twigs were whipped into the air. Moriko leaned on Vleridin, trying to stand, the wind slapping her salt-crusted hair into her face. Matt and Linden huddled together.

The net levitated off the Prince.

"Containment failure—"

He was limp, floating, as if he was a doll lifted by an unseen hand. Pokémon attacks ripped out and fizzled into nothing on an invisible barrier around him. A deafening report as a PRED soldier fired, only for the round to explode into burning metal fragments on impact. Rangers yelled; several ran or were told to run, and others tossed down pokéballs to reveal more elite-level pokémon.

"Clear target, re-containment commencing, Team Alpha engage on—"

" _ **I don't need him,**_ " the Gray Prince's mouth said.

The Prince's expression collapsed and grew suddenly terrified and childlike, and he put his hands on his chest, curling around them.

Something seemed to peel off his back. Something huge; something as large as the sky, shining like steel and fresh blood. He fell to the ground, limp, like a shed skin; broken, like the fragments of an eggshell.

The thing boiled. There were flashes of ghost fire, of lightning and smoke; Moriko saw grinning faces, horns and skulls, writhing limbs. It looked like a doorway into hell.

Something stepped out of it.

It was enormous. It was the Gray Prince's pokémon form but larger, centauroid, long-necked and crowned with metal horns, its limbs girded with steel. Eyeless, it turned its gaze on them.

" _ **You cannot hope to hold me. You cannot hope to withstand me. I am Ituras, first, strongest, lord of iron, lord of blood. Fight me, you worms, if you can."**_

They felt its voice in their bones; their teeth buzzed with it; it made the eyes tear up; it made the spine shoot spikes of numbness.

 _Cryptidex mode activated. Type: Unknown. Possible match: Unknown. Aura: Legendary+. EXTREME CAUTION. DO NOT APPROACH. DO NOT ENGAGE. REPORT TO RANGER AUTHORITY.  
_

The rangers leapt into action, high-level and highly-trained pokémon working together to shield the humans, and to slow and bind the giant pokémon. The PRED soldiers joined them, anti-pokémon devices charging up.

"He's taken the legendary form!" Belladonna was yelling. "Elite-level pokémon only! The rest of you, _run_!"

Ituras stretched like a cat, chuckling darkly, and its skin twitched as a hexx and a malamar tried to bind it with crackling ice and blue disable fields. A dozen more pokémon were attacking: wind and water streaked in, thornvine shot out of the ground as it liquefied into an enormous sand tomb, and confuse rays and will-o-wisps made the air glitter.

It shook them all off, slashing with its clawed arms, and it reared, stabbing down with its front legs. The ground shattered, chunks of earth bursting into the air and trees toppling in groaning masses of roots and cracking branches. Reflect shields screeched, breaking under the wave of force and the dislodged boulders that followed. Pokémon were flipped onto the ground and buried, and rangers and soldiers fled on foot or pokémon-back, flying pokémon rising and fleeing in a confusion of wings.

Powerful sweepers flew in, aerodactyl and talonflame and others too fast to identify dropping chemical and energy bombs that exploded with fire and anti-pokémon electricity. Ituras growled, shaking the air, and it forced the acid and liquid oxygen far underground and away.

It looked at them all, contemptuous, and howled, the air whipping into a whirlwind. The attack exploded outward, scattering the remaining pokémon like toys. Dust and debris blocked their view of the demon for a moment, and then it strode out of the wreckage.

Moriko could only retreat with Matt and Linden, Vleridin and Abram covering the three of them. They were a liability after all, elite pokémon massed behind them and throwing up shields, hastily assembling pits and whirlpools, poison spikes and stealth rock, anything that would slow it down.

 _Rufus—I need you—_

No answer. He was curled down in his pokéball.

"Moriko, what do we do now?" Linden asked. Abram walked backward behind them, supporting a glittering reflect-and-light-screen that protected their rear. Something exploded, making them stagger and sending a hail of debris skittering off the shield.

"The paraslit, can it—can it do anything—" Moriko gasped between paces.

"No, the type—"

Beam attacks whanged overhead, and more flying pokémon shot by, carrying charged anti-pokémon devices.

Atlitzin had fainted. The mewtwo had fainted. People and pokémon were dying behind them. Ituras roared, followed by a cacophony of pokémon screaming, and Moriko felt it in her chest.

They were losing.

"We need to go," she said.

Moriko threw down Liona's pokéball and helped Matt get on her back.

Matt looked at her, pained. "Moriko—"

"Take him away, Liona, we'll catch up with you."

"Moriko—" Vleridin said warningly.

"He can't walk. Come on!"

The nigriff shot into the air, flying low over the trees. Moriko and Linden trudged away desperately into the woods, the battle noises receding.

"Where are they, Abram?" Linden asked, waving her pokédex.

"Get on my back, Astrid," the metagross said. "Moriko, you—"

Ghost-type hands wrenched out of the ground, grabbing the metagross and hurling him across the forest like a toy.

"Abram!"

They felt Ituras's presence like a weight. Somehow it had snuck up on them; it was towering, armored and smelling of copper and hot iron. Vleridin faced it, putting her body between it and the trainers.

" _ **You fought well, gate-hopper, traveler's child,**_ " Ituras said. " _ **Clever, to use my servant's strength against him. I can appreciate strength. There will be a place for the pious among my servants when I am fully restored. Help me and gain greater favor. What say you?**_ "

"You'll have to speak to my lawyer," Linden said, her weavile's ultra ball in her hand.

" _ **Mockery? Well, I may have use for fools. And let me see my poor soldier.**_ "

Ituras reached past Vleridin and flicked Linden away. The girl didn't scream, just grunted as she was flung into the air, dropping the paraslit.

"Linden!" Moriko yelled.

Ituras picked up the paraslit delicately between its enormous claws. Moriko ran for Linden, who was rubbing her back in the leaf litter. Her blaziken and weavile burst out, guarding her, and they snarled inarticulately, eyes wide and terrified. Vleridin summoned roots that the demon snapped to pieces as it advanced, heedless.

" _ **You need not fear,**_ " Ituras was saying to the paraslit. " _ **The master has returned. You will have a place with me, as you did at the beginning of time.**_ "

Moriko swore, cracking her last bottle of potion for Linden. In a moment the paraslit would hypnotize them, cut them, and it would make itself thin, impossibly thin—

The paraslit squeaked once. Something about it sounded doubtful.

The demon god looked at it for a long time, and it crushed it in its claws.

"No! Stop!" Linden screamed.

Moriko froze, disbelieving.

Ituras ate the fainted paraslit, peeling its energy body like an orange, flinging away the skin and eating the rest.

" _ **Even fools have a use**_ **,** " Ituras said, its voice the slamming of dungeon doors. " **You** _ **have a use. Run, humans. Entertain me.**_ "

Moriko felt the air change, and white, muscular arms enfolded her and Linden. Vleridin shot into her body; Linden's pokémon dissolved in light.

"Here we go," Gauche said, and they teleported.

They snapped back to the ranger fallback base, and Moriko promptly leaned over and vomited.

"First time?" the mewtwo asked.

"Uh huh. Thanks, Gauche." Moriko scrubbed her face with her arm and looked around, dizzy. "Holy fuck. We… we need to… Gauche, we probably beat Matt here. Can you get him and Liona? And Abram?"

"I'm grabbing who I can," Gauche said, and teleported away again with a pop.

A medic scanned the two of them, and a chansey took one look at Moriko and slammed a softboiled into her stomach. She grunted, the energy tingling through her body and making her see spots. She sat carefully beside Linden.

Linden Jr. was as pale as a corpse, staring at nothing, the tears leaking out of her eyes like an afterthought.

Moriko put an arm around her, and she leaned on Moriko's shoulder.

"I didn't…" Linden gulped.

"I'm sorry, kid," Moriko said, and just let her cry.

x.x.x.x.x

"What are we going to do?"

"You're going inland, as I've been trying to make happen for two days," Belladonna said. She'd pushed back her hair with a bloody hand, and it had dried like that. "The rest of us are going to wait for Champion Faraday and the other elites. And if that doesn't work, then we have to stay alive for the seventeen hours until Champions Dawn and Silver get here."

For once, Moriko wasn't arguing, and she sat meekly out of the way. The Pearl and the Argent Emperor-Proxies sounded like great choices as far as she was concerned. And a cold mixture of dread and shame was creeping over her. She'd persuaded Belladonna and the strongest rangers to stay.

People had died on her advice.

She'd shaken, gasping, her legs giving out. She was passed from medic to medic, sat down again, given a drink, given a drug that didn't end the terror but made it feel like it was somewhere outside of her body. Vleridin sat with her silently.

Russ had been safe for a few glorious hours, and now no one was. He'd been spirited away in the confusion, airlifted to Port Littoral where the aid from other regions would be converging. If he'd even be safe there.

The crying stopped eventually, and she and Vleridin wandered the camp, waiting for their turn on a jumpcraft. She found the woman in black resting in the dim sunlight with her pokémon, a scene so ordinary that she had to stare. Stranger still, she seemed to be healthy, and yet she wasn't immediately tearing off after the Prince.

Maybe that was the point. Where was the Prince? Did she have any quarrel with the demon calling itself Ituras?

The woman in black nodded at her as she approached. Moriko said nothing, but sat near to her. Vleridin stood by with her head relaxed.

"What happened, back there?"

"Millennia ago, a god was killed, but it did not die. It told stories in whispers: come with me, I will make you strong; come with me, I will make you whole. And it waited."

More stories. Well, she had time. "Who was the gray man? Who are you?"

The Black Queen raised and lowered her thin shoulders. "A problem. A solution."

"Our lady of cryptic bullshit."

The woman laughed. Her pokémon didn't stir or look around. "He siphoned out another measure of blood from Russell," she explained. "It put it over some critical level. Fifty percent. Sixty-six. I don't know. Not quite apotheosis, if only because we are all still here. This is not its full strength. "

"Are you saying we—are you saying the rangers have a chance? Are you going to help?"

"Yes."

"Why aren't you now?"

"I lost," the woman said. "It will only grow stronger. I cannot face it alone again. I wasted my chances. I betrayed their trust." She nodded at the pokémon: six of them, in the sunshine. Not nine, but not all pokémon liked the sun, or dry land.

"Are they ghosts? Someone told me they're dead, and you are too."

The woman laughed again, twice in one day, which was probably a record. "Someday."

Moriko blew out her breath. She could only dig in the dirt for so long. "Thanks for the mega focus. I don't think I used it properly, though. Do you want it back?"

Her pokémon had been healed, but Rufus was still in his pokéball, and he refused to come out. She didn't understand.

"I have several. I am sorry to have set you on that road without training," the woman said.

Moriko looked at her sidelong. "I'm surprised to hear you apologize for anything."

"It opens a door between the two of you. For some, little gets through, and they cannot use the stone. For others… there is too much. It can make you powerful. It can make you wild. And the comedown is hard."

"Who _are_ you, many-soul?" Vleridin asked her.

"Ten times a fool, mooskeg, and old and tired."

"Are you going to fight alongside the elites?" Moriko asked.

"Yes. We will see if they have use for a fool. Leave, Moriko, with your friends. Leave and live."

x.x.x.x.x

The sun set, and the forest quieted aside from distant explosions and deep, booming bellows. More and more jumpcraft arrived to take people away, and others began to deliver troops and matériel: armed drones, elite PRED troops, more legendaries, Champion Faraday and her entourage.

Russ and his pokémon had already left. Celeste had failed to appear at the Gray Prince's capture; Moriko couldn't guess where she could be. Gauche had found Abram and Matt and Liona, and the three trainers were reunited without their fourth. They could see him soon in Port Littoral.

A part of her still wanted to fight, but Moriko knew she was dead weight. She'd been dead weight since the instant the Wandering Fire had done something to split her and Rufus apart. Ensouling had been the only thing that could have protected her from the demon, and mega evolution to stand at the same legendary-level strength. She hadn't done _that_ right, either.

It was time to go.

Moriko heard more shouting and electronic screeching erupt from the tents, a now-familiar emergency sound. She forced herself to turn away from it, to look over the trees for the approaching lights of their transport. There was nothing she could do.

The ground shook. Gunfire, nearby; human and pokémon voices raised. Matt and Linden looked at her and each other uneasily, and they looked behind them.

Trees fell. A shadow eeled across the ground, blacker than black, darting and oily, impossibly fast.

It halted, boiling. Claws and ghost hands stabbed out of the shadow's surface, and then the armored head and long neck. Ituras hauled itself out of the void and stood under starlight.

Atlitzin appeared beside Moriko. "Cool, it can shadow-travel, too. Just what we needed."

" _ **Here you were hiding,**_ " it said, looking over the camp and ignoring the PRED soldiers rapidly taking up defensive positions around it. " _ **More humans and still more. I could not have guessed that there would be so many of you in the world. I shall never again hunger.**_ "

"Get on the ship," the suicune said, and her eyes glowed blue as the air turned cold and damp.

Moriko ran.

Matt and Linden turned when she did, and they pelted toward the jumpcraft. Rangers helped them board; some leapt on afterward and others turned to defend, flinging out pokéballs. A burst of cold wind blew out from behind them.

They thudded into their seats, pulling on the harnesses as the ship was already lifting off. The antigravity kicked in; Linden cheered as the craft jumped straight up.

"Seriously, Lin?"

"You jinxed it," Matt grunted.

" _ **You cannot run, children,**_ " Ituras called, its pokémon's voice clearly audible over the noise of the craft.

The transport bucked, and Moriko grabbed at her restraints, as if that would do anything. The noise from the engines changed precipitously.

They were falling.

Abram burst out of his pokéball, phasing, half-in and half-out of seats and heads as he levitated. Moriko's vision turned silvery-bright; everything slowed to a crawl, and everything pulsed as if she could see electricity flowing like beads, stuttering and stopping as the craft's systems failed.

 _Moriko, Matthew,_ Abram said, _please. Help us._

Matt, ice somewhere underneath the writhing animal of his fear: _Of course._

 _Yes, Abram_ , Moriko said.

 _And I also_ , Vleridin said.

The metagross mega-evolved, and they poured their energy into it. They seized the craft, steel-type awareness sleeting through the metal of the ship and all its wires and printed boards, and it spoke to them: where it would fall, where it would hit, what would happen to it when it did. They saw its trajectory and rate of descent, as simple as blinking, and between heartbeats they calculated what had to change.

Other psychics joined them. They tilted the craft, telekinesis reaching out to set it falling just so, wreathing the calculated point of impact in reflect shields that they poured energy into. It was simple, it was—

The jumpcraft hit the ground, and their concentration faltered as their bodies hit their restraints, frail human flesh and bone snapped back and forth by ugly physics. Matt winked out. Linden was dazed. And—

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko drifted, watching the stars. She wasn't sure where she was; she had the distinct impression that she had something to do, some important appointment she had missed, but she couldn't remember what it was.

The view passed by, changing quickly, as if she was on the roof of a train. But it was so smooth; she was floating—

Moriko awoke by inches, her entire body radiating deep, bruisey pain. There was gray all around her: gray sky, gray trees, gray fur—

She saw the curving, clawed legs of the demon god. Fear stabbed through her like lightning, but it wasn't enough. Everything hurt. And as she lay there, she realized that Ituras wasn't moving either. Slowly, slowly, she sat up.

They were looking at the ocean. The sky was like a bowl of stars, and the moon shone down, its reflection like a road, a path to a distant white world.

" _I had forgotten this_ ," Ituras said quietly. " _It is good to be flesh again_."

Moriko looked for a place she could run to; she reached for Vleridin, who was hidden at her heart as hard as a stone, and the other pokémon in their pokéballs were too. _Yes_ , she thought, _stay there. Gods, help us, help us, help us._

She looked up at Ituras, its gaze still far out to sea.

" _You may run, earth's daughter, but I will find you again. You are hurt. Rest now. We will begin anew_."

Moriko sighed. She wasn't sure if she could stand.

"What are we doing here?"

" _My standard-bearer had one thing aright: the glories of flesh are many, but it hungers, and sources are few. And though humans are a plague, all across the surface of the earth, only some make for more than a morsel. You will feed me for some time, you and he_."

She followed its claw and saw Matt, prone, a few paces away. She could see the whites all around his eyes, but he stayed still, watching the demon and trembling with a prey animal's quick breathing.

The ground stopped a few more paces beyond Matt. She wasn't sure where they were, some kind of headland with the breeze fresh off the sea and the noise of the waves a faint susurrus. She could run, she could grab Matt, she could turn into Vleridin and fall and manipulate the water—

"I thought I might find you here," said Celeste.

The celestiule's voice was like music. She picked her way down a slope delicately, as if she had been spun from glass, and she came to rest beside the demon, her mane glimmering in the moonlight.

The demon watched her. " _I knew you_ ," it said, uncertain, wondering.

"It would be just like you," Celeste replied, "to forget me."

" _They took everything from me. Even your name_ ," Ituras said, and there was the echo of some terrible sorrow in the words.

"You did not deserve to know it," Celeste said. For an instant, she was as tall as the sky; afterward she shone on, as cold as starlight.

The demon's iron claws pierced the turf, carving huge furrows. Moriko crawled toward Matt, her limbs screaming.

" _I will know it again. I will know all that there is to know._ _ **I will know all that**_ **you** _ **know**_ **,** " it said, and it slashed out at Celeste.

The double-team illusion disappeared.

Moriko helped Matt stand; there was a small noise as Droit teleported in behind them.

Droit put his hands on their shoulders. "One, two—"

A ghost hand ripped out of the ground, grabbing the mewtwo and flinging him away into the air.

" _ **I tire of this**_ **,** " Ituras boomed. " _ **Show yourselves!**_ "

"It is only me," Celeste said, from a nearby hillock. "It has only ever been me."

" _ **Lying**_ **,** " the demon said, but it rose and galloped after her. It wove suddenly, as agile as a panther despite its huge size, and dodged an anti-pokémon device that arced lightning. " _ **This again** **?**_ " it called, laughing, and it stabbed the ground with another earthquake attack that rippled the clearing like a tablecloth, and sent all the trees toppling like candlesticks.

Flying pokémon and mounted rangers scattered from their hidden positions. Faraday's white zapdos squawked and aimed an enormous ball lightning attack at Ituras that actually slowed it down briefly, its muscles twitching as it cried out. And then it was upon them, scattering hastily-assembled equipment and matériel, hurling unarmed bombs far into the woods and over the treetops. Moriko and Matt staggered away along the headland, supporting each other.

Another team struck, dragonite and borfang converging on Ituras with crisscrossing beam attacks and smaller pokémon flying fast and low to aim explosive charges at its feet. It snarled deafeningly as liquid oxygen seared its underbelly and mines cracked open in a burst of invisible radiation. Faraday's zapdos was back with a crackling blue-white thunder wave attack that made Ituras falter, and suddenly the champion's entire team had leapt onto it, attacking with practiced ease and coordination.

A magnezone levitated it as a farabattor leapt onto its back, sickle-claws slashing, and a fulgurant and a raichu lashed it with searing lightning. An ongoliad burst out of the ground, attacking Ituras's injured underbelly, and it snarled, roaring thunderously and pushing them all away with a wave of force.

When Ituras wound up the next earthquake the electric-types melted away, taking off or magnet-levitating and opening a path for the next round of flying ranger-pokémon and bombs. The black charizard appeared, trailed by the woman's other flying pokémon, screaming overhead in a rush of blue fire and hyper beams and then away out of reach. Captain Lark and his staraptor lobbed a capsule of acid that scored a direct hit; the demon yelped, canine and pitiful, and then it roared, outraged.

It glowed ghost-purple, and Moriko's pokédex lit up even from far away.

 _LIMIT BREAK/Z-MOVE - AVOID CONTACT - GHOST TYPE - LEGENDARY++ - MINIMUM SAFE DISTANCE 500m  
_

Thousands of ghost hands erupted from the ground, phasing through rocks and trees until they suddenly became solid in showers of splinters and the thunder of displaced air. They swiped at Ituras's many attackers, hauling flying pokémon out of the sky and herding them close to the demon where it could snap and lunge at them as they screamed. Faraday's pokémon were isolated, their organization breaking down as they dodged the ghost hands and then the flung wood and boulders.

Ituras laughed, advancing through the hands and swiping at cornered enemies, hurling them into the air like chaff. The rangers were falling back again, regrouping again. Belladonna had said they would have to last until the other champions got there.

Moriko wasn't sure if they would.

And it was her fault again—Ituras had chased them, carried them off, and the rangers had attempted a daring rescue.

Well… it had seemed to be weakening, there by the sea. Reminiscing.

It didn't look weak now.

" _ **I am a god! I will remember this impiety,**_ " Ituras was saying. " _ **You will serve me. You will all serve me. Or you will burn.**_ "

"We do not serve gods. Here we put them to work," said Celeste.

She was on top of another hill, or seemed to be—the illusion was wavering, making her appear larger and smaller than she should have been.

"You will serve us, or you will be left in deepest darkness, where no light of star nor sun nor moon's tear shall reach you, and you will be forever forgotten. Choose, Ituras, Demon of Blood and Iron, kinslayer, vampire, cannibal. Choose."

Ituras laughed. " _ **Bold words! Empty threats! With what power, celestiule? With what army? See your humans falter!**_ "

A broken voice croaked: "Stop. Stop!"

They all looked around for it; even the demon swung its huge head around.

It was the gray man, and Ituras laughed at him.

" _ **How far did you crawl like this, worm? Fear not, I will put you back when all is done.**_ "

The gray man had always looked half-starved, sickly-shiny, on the edge of exhaustion, but now he looked truly ill, his stolen clothes flapping around him, and his skin sallow and dead.

"You need me," the man rasped. "You need to get back. Get back!"

" **You** _ **need me, cruel old child**_ **,** " Ituras rumbled. " _ **Save your strength and be silent. This will be over soon.**_ "

"Yes," Celeste said. "It will."

Ituras growled, annoyed, and advanced again on Celeste with a bound.

The team of psychic pokémon dropped the illusion, and the demon's claws touched the containment pad that had looked like earth and scrub seconds before. The shield snapped together around Ituras, and it bellowed, shocked and angry. Its claws scrabbled uselessly on the barrier.

"The hybrid form is strongest," Celeste said. She seemed to float closer. "Many of the elemental's strengths and few of their weaknesses. You have forgotten why you took it in the first place."

Limpet mines popped up off the floor of the containment pad, nano-hooks sticking instantly to the demon's fur. It was cramped, barely able to turn around, and its body glowed as it prepared some enormous attack to break the barrier as the gray man had done.

But this time the bubble had the attention of dozens of pokémon: light- and psychic-types reinforcing it, Faraday's electric-types feeding it power, steel- and virtual-types bracing the device and protecting its systems. Ituras's attack blasted back into its own face, and the limpet mines went off one by one, showering the barrier in black blood.

As the ground settled, the demon's ruined body was visible in the shield prison.

" _You dare… you dare?_ " Ituras gasped out, belly blown open, sides heaving. " _You cannot imagine… you cannot imagine what I will do… Cities will burn…_ _Rivers will boil... Meteors will rain... I will laugh as winter starves and kills you..."_

Moonlight streamed off Celeste; she glittered in the low light, her insubstantial body swirling with strange currents. "Our cities do not burn so easily. We learned. And we are learning now—as you have failed to do, in thousands of years."

Rangers and their pokémon streamed away from the pad. The black charizard appeared with its hydreigon teammate to help Moriko and Matt, and they leapt on their backs and joined the rush to get far, far away.

The trap was for more than just containment. It was how you executed a pokémon. And a legendary—a god—would need more than the usual course.

The pad powered up, its blue glow suddenly searing. Sand and rocks levitated around it.

"You did not learn, kinslayer. You will die."

Celeste's illusion winked out.

The gray man stood, and he ran like a zombie, with total disregard. He threw himself through the radiation onto the barrier. Shouts of dismay sounded over the rangers' communication channel; "Punch it! Punch it!" someone was screaming.

Moriko covered her eyes, but she was certain she felt every photon scream across her skin as the bomb silently exploded. The charizard covered itself with its wings, falling in a dive and then pulling back up, muscles working.

"Tell me they're dead," Moriko muttered.

They weren't.

They might have preferred to be.

The shield had failed. Man and the demon were warped together, flesh roiling and weeping black ichor that sizzled where it hit the ground. They staggered, fighting one another in a confusion of limbs and heads and wings, mouths opening and gasping and drawn in and disappearing.

Crude fists shot out and hit the ground, splintering it. Moriko could see the cliffs shedding stone from her perch on the charizard's back. Multiple pairs of the demon's long jaws came to the fore, and it snarled at them, at every direction, as it clawed its way forward, seeping blood onto the barren ground.

The blue energy of the execution tube still crackled over it; limbs withdrew as it seemed to decide what form to take, and it grew larger, grew shadowy wings. The black charizard flew higher, watching it advance to the land's edge.

" _ **You are filth,**_ " it roared, its voice flanging and many-throated. " _ **I am iron; I am the sword of retribution; I will bathe in a sea of blood for every drop of mine spilled, for all wrongs done to me lo these many long years. I will—**_ "

Karaxil burst out of the water, shedding ice. Demon of Frost and Starlight, Nocturna's prisoner-jailer. It shone under moon and stars, ticked fur glittering on its long, long body and its many limbs, and for a moment it seemed as lonely and serene as a distant nebula.

Its pointed head whipped around, snakelike, and it clamped its jaws down on the Gray Prince's neck. It fell, and it dragged the Prince under the waves. The black slick of oily ichor stayed on the water for a long time.

x.x.x.x.x

"Did that just happen?" came Linden's voice.

x.x.x.x.x


	29. The Last Road

**Changelog:** Gods and Demons Chapter 39. Edits for continuity and exposition.

Chapter 27

 _The Last Road / Down in darkness we found answers / Time leads you home_

 _ _—Aug. 27th - Sept. 1st, 128 CR__

After the party came the cleanup.

The pokémon carried Matt and Moriko back to the ruins of the ranger base. People were wary of them until the black charizard left, and then they were descended upon by medics who seized them for examination.

Hastily-erected tent canopies flapped in the cold air; they were filled with rangers in bandages and temporary bindings, guarded by as many of their pokémon as would fit. The voiced chatter was deafening and the mental cacophony was worse, but no one told them to leave.

Matt and Moriko were finally freed, stuck over with dermal patches like stamp collections. They went wobbling through the tents looking for Linden. Once they finally laid eyes on her, she was nearly oscillating too fast to see.

"HeyMorikolookIgotapinkbandagedoyoulikeitwowthatwasreallycrazywhathappened—"

Moriko stared and then looked at the attending medic. "What did you do to her?"

The doctor looked genuinely troubled and was scrolling through his tablet with some urgency. "She's had what you've had for the crash and concussion, it's the standard mixture of painkillers and amphetamines—"

"You gave Linden _speed_?" Matt demanded.

"I mean, same drug family, but it's not—it's an incredibly tiny dose—"

"—andsonextIsaysIsaysheyyouknowthattimeontournamentblockwhenthe—"

"I'll add this to her file," he said.

"She gets like this when she has coffee, too," Myrmel the flygon said. She was stretched out on her belly watching the fun. "Don't worry about it."

They left Linden with her pokémon and the doctor to try to level her out. As soon as they stepped outside, Ranger-Captain Lark was already approaching, flanked by Droit and Gauche.

Moriko watched apprehensively, but Lark grinned and clapped the two of them on the shoulders.

"You did good," he said.

Moriko bowed to stave off her discomfort. "I'm sorry. We shouldn't have been here. We made your jobs harder."

Lark waved a hand. "Those evil motherfuckers made my job harder. You were—"

"Don't," Moriko said sharply. "Don't lie to me. I'm old enough to hear it straight. People died because I was here."

"And young enough to think you get all the credit," Captain Lark replied, but he was smiling. "This was the clusterfuckest operation I have ever been on, and it would have been just as fucky without you. Hell, maybe more. Listen, you two and Prof. Linden's kid did adult work today. You helped make plans and followed them, and you listened to orders. Belladonna's orders, at least," he amended. "What are you doing in the fall?"

"Working?"

"Yeah? You're eighteen, right? Are you going to university? Look—" He pulled out his pokédex and fired off contacts to the both of them. "Think about it. Still time to decide. It's late, but I could pull some strings."

"For what?" Moriko asked, dizzy.

"Ranger school," Gauche said. She tapped her brow. "Get you a hat and everything."

Matt looked at his pokédex warily and then lowered it. "Why are you doing this?"

Lark took off his cap and ran his hands through his long-unshowered hair until it was a total loss. "We are all that stands between humanity on Gaia and _that_." He pointed out to sea, where the fetid chunks of the ancient whiscash floated, hovered over by helicopters and flying pokémon.

"Thousands of people could have died this week, and they didn't. You know what? I'm feeling generous and handing out bonuses to anyone even mildly involved. You helped me today. Come to school and learn discipline, and keep helping me. Keep helping _everyone."_

x.x.x.x.x

After facing the Gray Prince, Matt had sought out the Black Queen for the first time in his life. He'd all but begged her to shield him from the Prince's curse again.

It was humiliating. But he could deal with that. It wasn't as bad as the curse; it had been twice as bad, leaving it and then coming back, like steel fishhooks up and down his body.

And so. He would follow her. He would follow her wherever she wanted, rather than feel that again. And that meant Johto, where his mother lived.

He watched the ranger-mewtwo, thinking about their unusual provenance, and as the day ended he approached Droit, meditating by the sea cliffs.

"Can I ask you something?"

Droit glanced at Matt sidelong. "I don't know," he said. "Can you?"

Matt was silent a moment. "I deserve that."

The mewtwo twirled a hand. "Proceed."

"How were… how were you born?"

Droit considered this, looking out at the sea. "Humans find it funny," he said eventually, "if I say 'when a mommy mewtwo and a daddy mewtwo love each other very much' and trail off."

"Sorry," said Matt.

The noise of machinery and pokémon reached them faintly. Someone's gyarados groaned below the cliffs as ranger teams cleaned up the contaminated energy and weapon residue. No one had seen Karaxil, or the Gray Prince, or the Wandering Fire.

Matt started as Gauche touched him on the shoulder. She sat down with them; he felt a little buzz behind his eyes as some psychic communication passed between the two mewtwo.

"Our mother was…" Gauche trailed off. "How do the wild pokémon say it? I was Iris' get, who was Primus'. Who is the one I think you're asking about."

"Yes."

"Everyone knows that story," Gauche said lightly. "A war between humans turned ugly, stopped by pokémon. Triads still controlled the league, after. Pokémon, better than guns or drones. Weaponize them, make soldiers of their trainers. An ultimate pokémon: too strong, too smart, too angry." She cracked her small mouth; a fang glinted.

Matt swallowed, said: "I know. But… how do you _make_ …"

"How do the wild pokémon say it? I will tell you now the true tale, as it was told by her who was our parent, and by him who was hers…"

"In a distant land there was a mew," said Droit, "and he collected energy from many places. He became air and grew strong. He became fire and grew strong. He became water and grew strong. And when his time came he made an egg and considered many suitors, and finally he took all their energy and made a strong egg. One day humans came and took the egg to a place of stone and glass and iron, and they too added energy to the egg, strange energy, strange light, strange substances. What came out was not a mew."

Mutagens, radiation, energy from other worlds. There was a sheen on the water where buoys and pontoons had been set up to try to corral the spread of the ancient whiscash's remains, to be treated with bacteria that would break it down harmlessly.

"Does that bother you?" Matt asked. "To be made, not born?"

"I was born," Gauche said. "I was born like everybody else. Droit was born. Iris was born. Invictus was born. Primus was born, born a little different. We bred true. We're meant to be here. Thousands of years ago a meteorite fell to earth and exploded into pieces, and one piece waited thousands of years for me to exist." She flicked her hand, lifting the glamour on the mega stone set in her collarbone briefly.

"That stone was attuned to you. Any pokémon could have used it before that," Matt pointed out.

"And now it's mine," Gauche said.

"Existential crises in adolescence are normal," said Droit, "but they sure are boring."

x.x.x.x.x

"So, you're the young adept. Belladonna asked me to speak with you."

Moriko turned to see Lapis, the crystal-type specialist of the elite four. She nodded helplessly, tongue-tied.

They were pretty, with an asymmetric haircut and platinum genehan; they were missing their elite's costume, but there was something more appealing about their altitude jumpsuit and the air of authority the ranger badges gave them. A mictular flanked them, the ghost jaguar armored with a crystalline mask and bangles.

"I was expecting to fight to exhaustion here," Lapis said. "This was the one we'd trained for, and yet the demons only wanted a couple of teenagers." They laughed. "I suppose that's always the way. Who trained you?"

"Trained me?" Moriko repeated.

"Ah. You're one of _those_ half kids."

"Excuse me?"

"The ones whose second-crossing parent ran and didn't want anything to do with Nalea," Lapis explained.

"Wow, okay—"

"Sorry, I can see I've made an assumption," they said, correcting themself smoothly. "You don't know anything about being an adept. True? It just happened to you one day."

Moriko swallowed. "Yeah. I caught—"

Vleridin reformed, like stepping out of a doorway. "She found me," the mooskeg said.

Lapis bowed politely. "May you have many useful years together. I, too, am an adept," they said, and Moriko and Vleridin had the impression of something huge and glassy overlaying them for a moment. "But I was trained, and carefully. It didn't come upon me suddenly. Well, less suddenly than others. And above all it was stressed to me the potential dangers of the process."

"Ensoulment."

"Yes."

"Tell us, then," Vleridin said.

Lapis flexed their hand, opening and closing, and the mictular bumped its head against their leg, and they smiled.

"You have to understand," they said, "that ensoulment is tapping into a prodigious natural force—and the… pressure on you increases the deeper you go, until you are struggling to remember who you are, who you were. Until she is struggling," they added, nodding at Vleridin. "By using pokéballs we can stay at the surface and never dip a toe into that water, except in subtle ways, or wade in with mega evolution. But ensoulment can drag you down deep indeed."

Moriko felt cold; she'd known, somehow. "It seems so useful. It seems like there are no drawbacks."

"Exactly."

They pointed toward the woman in black, perched with her charizard on a distant rock outcrop. Her eyes were on the rangers toiling below, ever watchful for the Gray Prince's return.

"You've seen her without her goggles?"

Ten pairs of eyes, and only one pair her own. Moriko nodded.

"She is not even as deep as you can go," Lapis said. "Where you are now, you can't even imagine what the bottom will be like."

"But… how? How do I be careful?"

"Don't do it. As much as you can, don't do it. Pokéballs are so much safer."

"Not an option," Vleridin grunted.

Lapis nodded. "That's usually how these things get started. Only when there's no other option, then. Learn to change your size, mooskeg; adept, take transportation that can accommodate large pokémon. Find a master. Limit the energy transferred in battle, and don't use it to heal casually. Others will push you; they want your power. It's useful! We wouldn't do it if it wasn't. But it's too good until suddenly it really, really isn't anymore."

"Alright," Moriko said. "…Lapis? You trained to fight ancient pokémon. What are they?"

"What's a hurricane? What's an earthquake?"

"Well—yeah? There are reasons those happen."

Lapis smiled. "I see you're less easily put off than most people I say that to." The mictular laughed, beside them. "The truth is, no-one knows. A professor might be able to give you pages of theory about energy density and auras, but…"

"Yes?"

"Well, here's one hypothesis. We entwine our souls with these beings, and we live through them and they through us—what happens when we die? What happens when the pokémon goes back to the earth and the human's soul goes—somewhere else? Who knows?—What happens when you die together? What happens when it's an ugly death? What happens to those souls?"

Angry ghosts, lost and sundered. Seething. Festering.

The whiscash had been undead, worm-ridden, decaying in some prodigious grave until something revived it and tore it out of the ground, until it rose to the surface in a hurricane of unclean energy. Energy that no-one could use, energy that went to waste, entombed in concrete and steel sarcophagi until perhaps bacterial sludges managed to do something.

The Gray Prince had been able to use that energy.

 _Treasure, under the earth, with the dead._

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko found the woman again, one more time. One more try.

"Who is the Gray Prince?"

The woman was perched on the cliffside, leaning forward as if straining at a leash. "A man who thought he was a demon master," said the Black Queen. "I see you found a real one."

"Leave her alone, your majesty."

The woman smiled, pointed teeth gleaming under her extra eyes.

Moriko looked at the black charizard, coal-black with its blue tail flame burning.

"Who are _you_?" she asked.

The charizard swung its head around, and it watched her for a moment before venting a short laugh. " _I'm_ the Black Queen," she rumbled. "Look me up."

The woman picked up a handful of sand and let it stream away into the breeze.

"They were made for each other, him and the demon," she said. "Arrogant, self-aggrandizing, cruel, imagining vast revenges for every slight. He'll be back."

"Who _are_ you? Who was he?"

The woman in black shook her head. "Search for the Black Queen." She patted the charizard's flank. "You will see. It doesn't matter. Those people died a long time ago."

"Why do you do this?" Moriko asked. "Aren't you tired?"

"I sleep for years, when he does. I do not seem an impressive figure, do I? A century of stalemate."

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Sometimes success is invisible. If you stop the hurricane, why, all that preparation was for nothing. No?"

" _Are_ you stopping the hurricane? What is all this _for_?"

The woman looked into the west, where the sun was setting.

"Have you heard of Surdun?" she asked.

"It's… a continent. The last wilderness. There are mammoths there and giant animals that went extinct on Terra."

"Surdun is where the gods went," said the woman in black. "Surdun is where the doors are. The stronger he gets, the more likely it is that he can survive opening one. He could go anywhere. There are other worlds than these.

"I will protect the doors with my last breath. I hope you never see them open, Moriko Sato, Yuleidono's daughter."

A void opened under her, blood rushing in her ears. There was so far to fall. There was so much to remember. Blood. A lot of it.

"Where did you hear that name?" Moriko asked tightly.

"Public record." The woman looked at her. "I know how to use a computer."

The anger evaporated, and Moriko puffed a breath that could have been a laugh.

"You know what the Wrath did, now, I think," the woman said. "She is the slipperiest of them all. But she has no ambition. Not like him. I will leave her for last. For you, perhaps."

"She almost killed me! What if she comes back?"

"She does not hold grudges. Still, watch your back, Moriko." The woman in black stood.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to work," the woman said, and the charizard flowed onto her like a wraith. With a beat of her wings she was gone.

x.x.x.x.x

At last the triaged cases had all been flown out, and there was an aircraft ready for Moriko, Matt, and Linden. Back to Port Littoral.

Something glittered in the wood as they were preparing to board, and Moriko almost called out to the rangers on duty. Her pokédex read the aura quickly enough.

Celeste walked out of the trees, twilight shining on her hide.

Moriko waved, approaching cautiously. "Celeste!"

"Well met by moonlight, Moriko. I must bid you farewell: my responsibilities take me far from here."

"You saved us, Celeste, more than once. Thank you. What will you do now? Where will you go?"

"Where I am needed. The god is still in the world, and so I shall not rest."

"That's a lot for someone a couple months old. Isn't there anything else?"

The celestiule inclined her head. "It is my life's work—more than one lifetime's work."

"Celeste… what _are_ you?"

"Someone with work to do," the celestiule said. "Be well, earth's daughter, while you can. We will meet again, when the storm rises."

"You could be someone who explains a goddamn thing once in a while, you know!" Moriko called after her.

Celeste brayed laughter as she turned to light and shot away into darkness.

x.x.x.x.x

The Port Littoral skyline came into view as the jumpcraft descended, and shortly they were circling the airport. Moriko felt herself tearing up, seeing the familiar streets and trees and architecture and the thin line of the boardwalk, but it was probably just the dry air.

Gods all damn it, she was home. She couldn't wait to see Russ.

Prof. Willow and a couple of her grad students were waiting for them in arrivals. She rushed forward to hug her and Matt, which they returned with some embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," Prof. Willow said, releasing them and dabbing at her eyes. "I'm just so relieved that you two got out safely."

"How have things been back here? Is Russ okay?"

"He had regen, and he was discharged this morning. He's fine. Let's go see him."

Moriko felt impossibly light as she nodded at that.

"Come see me afterward, okay?" Prof. Willow added. "I have some things to go over with you."

"Nothing bad, I hope?"

"No, it should all be good news," the professor said. Cagey, Moriko thought.

Prof. Linden was there to pick up Linden Jr. as well.

"Prof. Linden—" Moriko began, but he interrupted.

"I'm staying with Adeline," he said, meaning Prof. Willow. "Let's talk there."

They loaded Prof. Willow's day-share van up with their gear and piled in. Moriko couldn't help staring at the long-familiar streets and signs, willing them to have changed in some way, and yet nothing had. She felt a bubble building up in her chest, a tension. Matt immediately fell asleep; Linden Jr. gabbled excitedly about everything that had happened: the ancient pokémon battle, the demons, things she'd learned from the rangers.

Linden disappeared with her dad into the lab, and Matt and Moriko followed more slowly with Prof. Willow and the students. The professor was filling them in on current projects, upcoming conferences, and which students had graduated or bypassed to further study.

Moriko was only half-listening. She saw Russell as they came into the lab foyer.

Anxiety plucked a few notes. He still looked a little gray, a little thin—and, gods, he had always been dangerously thin—but he was here, he was awake, he was standing under his own power.

Moriko didn't charge him like she wanted to; she approached him, careful, shy.

"Hey, Russ."

"Hey," he said.

"How are you feeling?" Matt asked him.

"I've been better."

 _That's it? Russ!_ Moriko nodded. "We really missed you."

"Thanks."

Moriko looked up at him, but he was staring over her head.

"Moriko, let me get your bag," Matt said. "I'll just be in the dorms, okay?"

She watched him go and wanted to call him back. Russ didn't say anything.

"…Do you want to talk outside?" Moriko asked.

Russ shrugged. "Sure."

Prof. Willow's lab grounds had the familiar summer smell of grass and weeds baking in the sun, mints throwing off aromatics and tiny flowers subtly fragrant. There was the spicy scent of pokémon, of volcalf and burnox happy and dozing in the fire-type paddock with its hard, packed earth, and the pine-needle aroma of sylpup and timbark in the shade. It was the end of the summer, the end of that year's opportunity for battles and exploration without school hanging over them.

Moriko felt that familiar prickle of dread and anticipation at the thought of a new school year starting, another year to be endured, and she realized that that was over. This autumn could be anything.

Moriko told Russ about everything he'd missed: Nocturna, the demon pokémon in the mountain, the rangers and the ancient pokémon, the demon god, the woman, Celeste.

He wasn't listening.

"Russ… are you okay?" she asked. "How are you feeling?"

He'd stopped, as if noticing she was there, and gave his head a shake to clear it.

"Moriko…"

"Do you want to sit down?"

"Moriko, no—you—Moriko, you ruined this journey."

"Oh," she squeaked. A silence. "I'm sorry?" she said, unable to keep the question out of it.

"It was supposed to be fun," he said, cold. The bluster was all gone, but so was all the old gentleness. "It was supposed to be an adventure, and all I had was your bad attitude and self-pity. About everything."

She felt it reverberate through her bones, through her whole body.

"I—when Matt—"

"I have had more fun with Matt in weeks than I did with you in years, Moriko."

"Russ—okay, I—"

"Moriko. You left me to die."

It was like a blow. She stared at him.

"You didn't come until it was… convenient. He drained me, and he said you were coming. You didn't. I called you and you didn't come, and he found out and he hurt me again. You came when it was almost too late."

He looked away from her, looked away over the horizon; there were tears in his eyes. She had no idea what to do.

"Russ, I, I couldn't—I couldn't until then, I would have died—"

"Like I was going to?"

Like a punch in the stomach. She almost doubled up.

"I had to fight a demon when I came for you! She would have killed me and the pokémon if not for Celeste. What could I have done against all three demons?"

 _Died, like you were supposed to_. She wasn't sure if she merely imagined the Prince's voice.

"You left me," he muttered, not listening.

"I'm sorry, Russ," she said, helpless.

He cringed, turning inward, turning away. "I was… I can't believe you… I can't believe you've seen me like that, over and over."

She wanted to go to him so badly. "Like what? Russ, like what?"

"Helpless." His face screwed up with disgust.

 _We took care of_ him _. I don't know if he'll forgive us,_ Matt had said, a thousand years ago.

"Is that how you feel when you help me? Do I disgust you?"

"No, that's different."

"How?"

"It—just is." Russ stared at her. "You're not sorry. You'd do it again."

"Do what again? Help you?"

"Leave me to die, leave me until it was easy, until you could gloat—"

Her voice arced. "Russ! I'm not—when have I _gloated_?"

Russell walked away from her. She didn't let him.

"Russ! What is it with you? Why aren't I allowed to help you? You were always nice to me, you were always a friend—why can't I be that back?"

He shook his head, tried to sidestep her.

"What am I to you?" she shouted, anger flaring. "What am I? Am I just some animal to be saved like the others? It doesn't make you less to need help, Russ! It doesn't make _me_ less! And fuck you for thinking it did!"

He was shaking. He was so angry.

"Don't—don't talk to me again. Okay? Not again. Just leave me alone."

She watched him go. She was startled when Sylvia nosed her hand gently; she wasn't sure how a giant wolf had snuck up on her.

"I don't know what's wrong," the borfang said sadly.

Moriko tousled her ears and scratched her along the jaw. She shook her head, the anger blackening into tears, as it usually did.

Sylvia licked her face. "It will be okay," she said. "See you soon. I love you."

"I love you too, Sylvia," Moriko said thickly. "Be good, okay?"

It hurt less than she expected—she did not melt down or think about cutting—but it hurt. It hurt a lot.

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko wandered back into the lab and found the dorms either by accident or distant memory. Matt took one look at her and got up.

"Didn't go well, huh?"

"No, it really didn't." She took a deep breath and scrubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "It was like you said: we helped him. He didn't forgive us."

"I'm sorry," Matt said. He shifted, like he wanted to do something, hug her, maybe; she wasn't sure if she wanted one. "He's been through some shit. I think we should… give him some space. This isn't necessarily permanent. It's what I needed. After."

Moriko shrugged. Better not to hope.

"I should talk to him too, but…" Matt trailed off.

"Yeah?"

"You were right, he had the darkwater in him, and I wonder if it really did make him more uninhibited? And… well…" He reddened.

"And what if you fooled around with somebody who wasn't in their right mind?"

"More than fooled around."

"Matt!"

"And it sounds like he didn't soften the blow, with you. I'm afraid to face him. But I owe him that, if I… well. Took advantage of him."

Moriko mock-punched his shoulder. "Do it. Rip off the bandage."

"Debridement is uniquely agonizing, they say," he said, smirking. "How are you feeling? Think you're up to talking to Willow?"

"Sure. Matt, I was thinking about what Lark said… What do we even do now?"

Matt laughed. "Right?"

x.x.x.x.x

Prof. Willow's office was almost identical to how it was when they'd started the journey—gods, two months ago? Ten weeks?—maybe with a few papers moved around. It had begun to offend her, that she could have left for so long and here nothing had changed; nothing had noted her absence.

"Moriko! Let me get you some tea," Willow said, and she bustled around the office while Moriko sat awkwardly in the same old student chair.

"So," the professor said eventually, "I heard things got a little rough."

"A little, yeah."

Prof. Willow reached out and took Moriko's hand. She squeezed it fondly. "Believe it or not, it's not supposed to be that hard. Even in Gaiien. You made it. That counts for a lot."

Moriko focused on her tea. "Thanks," she said, polite.

She felt Prof. Willow's eyes on her, but eventually the professor turned back to her computer.

"So… Moriko, I apologize for involving myself in your business, but I made some calls. This is your parents' lawyer's contact information." She flicked something on her pokédex, and Moriko's 'dex buzzed with a new contact.

Moriko touched it uneasily. "What… for?"

"Like I said, I'm sorry for involving myself, but… there was a rumor. Your family's lawyer can't speak to me, but you can speak to her about your inheritance, since you're eighteen."

Moriko's head was spinning. "I—I'm sure my aunt and uncle got—whatever. To take care of me."

"No, they got a survivorship benefit and foster child benefit from the government—" Prof. Willow put up her hands. "It's none of my business. Talk to the lawyer. Anyway, I heard from Ranger-Captain Lark about your adventures, and I wanted to let you know that I agree with him. You should go to ranger school, I think that would be perfect for you."

Moriko blinked at the sudden topic change. "Sure, but, I mean, it's too late, and my marks… I don't want to be the pity admission."

"I'll be the judge of that," Willow said briskly. "Do I have permission to access your academic files?"

"Sure."

A few protected logins later, Prof. Willow was scrolling swiftly through Moriko's test scores and report cards. Moriko winced at them, thinking of Russ's scores and those of the other high achievers, i.e. Angela and all her friends.

"See? I'm just not—"

"Hmm? Oh, Moriko, no, this is quite workable," Prof. Willow said, opening an application form and pulling numbers into it. It said _University of Hoenn_ at the upper right.

"Oh! Really?" she squeaked.

"Don't be down on yourself for not having a ninety average or whatever. I mean, if you wanted to be a professor, I'd say stop and upgrade or even don't bother until and unless you're ready to memorize a lot of irrelevant minutiae—No, for ranger school you need to be well-rounded."

Moriko shifted nervously. "Well, I mean, I dunno, I just... I've never really been a good student, and I'm not that good at pokémon battling, either."

Prof. Willow spun in her chair. "Tournament battling is totally different! Totally different! Captain Lark told me how you worked with the rangers—"

"Prof. Willow—"

"—and all the dangers you've seen this summer, catching dangerous pokémon, catching unknown ones—and you _kept going_ , Moriko. It's about finishing. Spirit. Drive. Tenacity."

"That's not—" she said helplessly, "That wasn't _me_ , Professor, that was Matt and Russ dragging me around and I didn't, I had to be saved by a weird pokémon prophet _multiple_ times, and—"

"So? You think you'll be out there as a ranger alone? You can rely on a team!"

"I—"

"You can talk about—in your personal statement—you can discuss this summer and how it helped you grow, and also you had a bit of a rough home life—"

"Professor!" Moriko barked. "Who—what do you mean, 'rough home life'?"

Willow fluttered her hands, apologetic. "We… I'm sorry, Moriko, the community—most people know about you. How your parents died. We know how hard it was for you."

"What are you talking about?"

"We… knew that your… mother—"

"What about her?" Moriko snarled, and felt instantly bad. Prof. Willow was patting the air desperately now. "Sorry. What were you going to say?"

"I… spoke with Angela, when she came home," Prof. Willow explained. "I asked her some things about herself, and about the family. I'm sorry, Moriko. I would have intervened if I'd known."

Moriko looked at her, lost. "About what? I mean… we were always being shitty and fighting, I guess. Teen stuff. It's normal."

Prof. Willow shook her head. "It's… not," she said gently. "Some of the things Angela told me about were… beyond the pale."

Moriko shrugged. Being entirely honest, she was afraid to know. It was already bad. No need for someone to explain, in excruciating detail, why it was worse.

Willow looked worried, so Moriko said, "Thank you for looking out for me, professor. What are you filling out…?"

"I'm going to help fast-track your application."

"Professor! I haven't even—I don't know—Where am I going to get tuition?"

She hesitated for a moment and then resumed typing. "You're right," Prof. Willow said. "Take some time to think about it. But there are solutions for students without a lot of resources. And don't take too long. Alright?" She winked.

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko put her pokédex down like it was going to explode.

Vleridin and Tarahn watched her.

"Is she happy?" Vleridin asked Tarahn. "Sad?"

"I… don't know?" Tarahn said. He patted Moriko's knee awkwardly. "What was all that human stuff?"

"Human faffery. Explain, Moriko."

"There's a trust," Moriko said, halting.

"Yes?"

Tarahn turned his head on the side. "Are you rich now?"

Moriko snorted. "No, not at all."

But it wasn't nothing, either. It was locked away until she was twenty-five—unless she wanted to draw some off to pay post-secondary education fees and housing. She'd never been in danger of starving: pokémon healing at the 'center was always free, and cafeteria meals for trainers. But it was hard to turn that into something more. It had just gotten a little bit easier.

If she wanted it.

x.x.x.x.x

She went looking for Matt and Linden—not Russ—and found Prof. Linden instead, his handhelds and portable computers hooked up to screens in one of the lab's classrooms. He waved at her, sipping from a coffee mug, and a purple-and-yellow cat pokémon yawned underneath his desk. The liepard and Tarahn looked at each other for a moment before turning away and washing their respective paws pointedly.

"The hero returns!" Prof. Linden said. "No?" he added, seeing her expression.

"I can't tell if you're being sarcastic, Professor."

He laughed and turned toward her. "So! What's next?"

Moriko shrugged. "I don't know. Today has been… a lot. I thought I was just going to see everyone and then ask for my job back at the ice cream place, and live at the pokémon center while I looked for a subsidized apartment. Now…"

"Say yes," Prof. Linden said. "I'm writing your recommendation letter right now."

"Professor!"

"Not to pressure you, but it's good to go straight to university if you're serious about it. It can be hard to get back into that school mode once working becomes normal."

"I don't know—"

"The U at Mossdeep is where I teach. It's a bit of a party school, but it's a 'work-hard-play-hard' kind of atmosphere. You need to be around other people like you, who can drive and inspire you to be your best self. Not people trying to convince you that you're no good for not being able to fly when you can surf."

"Prof. Linden, I don't…"

"You don't want to go?"

"I don't… trust you," Moriko heard herself say. "You… you sent Linden out with demon pokémon."

Prof. Linden had always looked drained, but as he frowned Moriko saw the new stress lines on his face. He looked worse, aged twenty years.

"I did give her those pokémon," he said hoarsely, "but not to take away like that. After she stole them, I tried to decide whether to contact the rangers, risk their destruction, legal consequences for myself. We were distracted by larger matters. And I…" He swirled his mug; Moriko caught a whiff of something that wasn't coffee. "I confess that I am prone to experimentation. Wild experimentation."

"People could have died!"

"Yes." He looked like he could say more but shook his head. "I won't try to justify that. Thank god that Junior could do what we always thought she could."

"Professor…"

"It's not easy to see adults exposed as total fools, is it? I know. I'm sorry." He gulped from the mug. "Come to Hoenn," he said, too fast, coughing. "Do better than an old drunkard. Keep people safe."

Moriko sighed, a long exhalation. "No. I don't want to be a ranger. They're useless."

Linden Sr. was taken aback. "What?"

"They wouldn't save Russ. I had to. They couldn't stop the whiscash, they couldn't stop the Gray Prince, they had to wait for the champion and the elites to come in to fight the demon. What's the point? What are they _for_? For harassing me my whole journey? Getting there too late to stop killer pokémon?"

Prof. Linden was silent for a few moments, and then he called up something on his pokédex. A human figure appeared, rotating slowly, with luminous, slit-pupilled eyes and spirit fire streaming off its shoulders.

"There are many stops along the road from human to pokémon, and branches, strange ones." He glanced at her. "We don't know what the Gray Prince is, or was, exactly, but… this is the 'hybrid' form. When a human is ensouled and the pokémon is ascendant, they gain telltale features… and few weaknesses. Humans are astonishingly fragile. Pokémon can be made to retreat easily. But the hybrid shrugs off anti-pokémon devices, and the pokémon soul mitigates flesh damage. There are things we can do; they're alone, and they can be trapped and immobilized, led astray and tired out.

"When the hybrid is half a god… well. You saw what had to be done, the forces they had to raise. That's one reason the rangers won't fight him. Not for one kid at a time who often doesn't die."

He looked at her. "But you did, Moriko. You did. You assembled allies and got your friend out. Could you do it again?"

"I _didn't_!" Moriko shouted. "I didn't and I couldn't, I was saved by a weird, powerful pokémon again and again and by some old mystic! If Belladonna hadn't listened to my batshit idea those rangers wouldn't have died—Professor, I put your daughter in danger!"

"Astrid has been in danger since she was born," Prof. Linden said. He keyed something on his computer and the larger presentation screen behind him warmed up. It clicked on to the twenty-four-hour news channel.

Porphyry City's ocean-facing side had been scoured away by the tsunami. There was nothing left.

Drones and helicopters surveyed the devastation; rangers and aid workers were setting up temporary shelters, and water pokémon were purifying seawater. Belladonna's arena was full of tents, and so were the campsite areas near to the city. The missing would slowly tick down, and the death tally would rise.

"Why are you showing me this?" Moriko asked, tears pricking her eyes.

"The death toll is eighty, Moriko. Eighty. Two digits."

"So far."

"A hideous, primeval pokémon from the bottom of the ocean and a _god_ showed up this week, and between them they only managed to kill a few dozen people. Not thousands. That's what rangers do, that's what PRED does, that's what you helped do. Maybe it wasn't as intentional and well-planned as you wanted, but you did play a role. Now you have the opportunity to make the next one a better demonstration of your abilities. But you'll have to go to school and _learn_ and practice your butt off to do that. We're not giving you too much credit today. We're thinking about what you'll achieve tomorrow.

"What'll it be?"

A green glow filled the room as Vleridin reformed.

"I will go, even if she does not," the mooskeg said.

"Vleridin!"

"Enough prattling, Moriko," Vleridin said cheerfully. "Decide now."

Linden raised his mug. "Sleep on it. Let me know."

"She says yes. Now, where _is_ this 'Hoenn', exactly?"

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko stomped back to the lab dorms and found Matt still there, reading on his pokédex and using Maia as a backrest.

"Are these people trying to railroad you into going to ranger school in Hoenn, too?"

Matt laughed. "In Johto, actually. So I can live with one of my parents and not have to pay rent." He sighed. "And so I can see _her_ regularly."

"…How is your… curse?" That sounded idiotic, but she had no idea what to call it. She felt bad for not asking earlier, after seeing the web of energy snap back onto him.

He shrugged. "She fixed it again, but…" He rubbed his eyes. "It killed me, feeling it again. It was twice as bad, and it was bad before. No, I'll go. I'll go to Johto. I can't live like that." He chuckled, rueful. "I don't think Maia would let me. She'd drag me by the ankle."

"Do what Maia says," Moriko said sternly.

"See?" Maia rumbled, and Matt laughed.

"Hoenn for you, then?"

"Yeah. It's Prof. Linden's school, I think that's why. He has some pull there. I don't think my marks are high enough otherwise."

"It's competitive." Matt leaned back and put his hands behind his head, and Maia licked his face. "I didn't think I would ever go. It seemed pointless after everything that had happened. And to Sam."

"What were her plans?"

He smiled, sad. "She was going to be Champion, of course. I think she could have done it."

"I'm sorry. She sounded cool."

"She was a giant dweeb like me, but she'd be happy you said that." Matt looked at her. "You'd heard of the Spirit of Wrath before?"

Moriko felt the autumn chill from back in the forest. She tried to remember the demon's face, but it was like probing a wound.

"She said she'd met me. When I was young. She'd known my parents."

Matt looked like someone taking a step off a cliff. "Moriko… what… happened to your parents?"

 _Don't—don't—don't—_

Moriko grasped the ember at her heart. Memory cut her, as sharp as glass; burned her, as hot as flame.

There had been blood. A lot of it.

She heard her own voice from far away, as flat as a computer's. "My mom—my _second-crossing_ mom—killed my dad and then killed herself, or they both killed each other. They weren't sure."

She stared at the far wall, didn't look at Matt, didn't want to see his face.

"I was placed with my aunt and uncle and my cousin. It was okay at first. But then more and more I heard the rumors. That I was violent, like her. Hafu kid. The first one at the school. Kids avoided me.

"Eventually they forgot. They met other half kids and they were normal and they forgot. I didn't."

Matt rose, his arms jerking up and stopping, his expression helpless. She stepped toward him and he hugged her, ferociously, and she put her head on his shoulder and just hung there.

"I'm sorry, Moriko," he said, strangled. "You—it proves—it wasn't her, Moriko. It was that... _thing_."

"I know. I know," she said.

 _I'm alive,_ she thought. _So I keep going_.

It was strange. She'd burned herself, but the ember was out. Something green was growing there.

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko wasn't sure what she had expected would happen at the end of the summer. Magic, she supposed: that it would all work out, somehow, despite Russ leaving for school and her letters of rejection. She'd have a meteoric rise through Gaiien's gyms and get a special transport to the tier eight gym at Sastruga Fjord, finishing the circuit just in time for the end-of-summer tournament in Thalassa Heights, and win, and become a superstar.

Something like that.

She wasn't that smart—her marks and this summer proved that—but she wasn't too stupid to see the favor the professors were throwing at her. "I sent three people and a helicopter," as the deity had said in the old joke. Well, she was getting into the chopper.

But she remembered that there were other people along for the ride.

Moriko set up a 3D map of Gaia as a projection in the outdoor classroom. The pokémon sat politely among the human student seating, bored or amused as she wrestled with the presentation software.

It was heartening to see them all together: Rufus and Tarahn, Liona, Vleridin, Thanasanian. They looked like a team, like a colorful and type-balanced trainer drama team, despite their bumpy, unphotogenic journey.

She tried to steel herself for the answers she'd hear.

She wasn't sure if they would understand; Vleridin hadn't at first. She made the map zoom in.

"Here's the journey I took this summer: from Port Littoral, to Verdure Town, to Porphyry, to Russet, to the desert, and around again. Here's where you joined us, Liona," she said, drawing an x on the map. "Vleridin here, and Thana, here. It took me two months to walk and ride this journey.

"Now. This is all of Gaiien." Moriko expanded the map. "And this… is where I'm… where I was invited to go." She zoomed the globe out until Hoenn was in view. "It's a journey across the sea on a fast boat, a few days.

"I've been invited to go to university to be a ranger," she explained. "My pokémon partners will learn special techniques and get powerful, and work with other ranger pokémon to do things they can't do alone. I hope you all will stay with me, but it _is_ far away. And I understand if you're scared. I'm scared. But if you changed your mind, your pokéball could be transferred back here in an instant, and you could stay with Prof. Willow. I will… I would stay there, though. Until it's done.

"Please think about it a little while. And if you don't want to come, I understand, but I hope you do." She bowed.

She left them alone for a moment to talk among themselves, but Thana immediately came up to her. The oberant had been withdrawn ever since they'd left the desert. It was all too much and too new, Moriko guessed, and Porphyry had been crowded and filled with fear at the daikaiju. Her moment should have come at the dark type gym, but everything else had instead.

"Moriko… I…"

"You want to go home?" Moriko asked gently.

"I shall betray my mission," Thanasanian said, her head hunched into her fluffy ruff. "I have not told all the human leaders of the demons. But I… to go across the water…"

"You've already done a lot, for someone who'd never left home and had barely visited the surface. And no one could speak to every human leader personally. It would take years just to get there, and there would be new problems. You did fulfill your mission! You told the professors, and they spread the word." Moriko searched Thana's arthropod face. "You could make yourself a new mission: you could stay here with Prof. Willow and learn about humans, and take that back to your mom in the hive. You can go back right now, if you want. We can transfer your pokéball."

"You are not angry?"

"Not at all. I hope your parent is doing okay, and you get to see all your siblings when you get back."

"Thank you, Moriko. I do not envy you your long journey across the salt water, but I hope it is worth it. I hope you learn many things."

x.x.x.x.x

"You don't have to come with me if you don't want to," Moriko said.

Liona rolled her shoulders and turned her head away. "Where else would I go?"

"I told you when we met, you can go with any trainer, not just me. You can find one who you like better. You can go with a trader and meet many trainers."

"Do you not want me?"

"No! I like you. You're my friend. I hope."

"I've fought with you. I've won with you. You're kind to me. You took me in when…" She looked away.

Dead trainers, hearts eaten. Moriko remembered yellow eyes in the wood.

Moriko shook her head. "Anyone would have. You—you aren't responsible for what he did. It's not on you."

"Isn't it?" Liona said, shaking her wings, as if to dislodge a pest. "Moriko," she said suddenly, "I was—I was the _bait_. Do you understand?"

She exhaled. "Yes."

"He said—he said it would make us stronger. That it was the only way with our parent gone. We had nothing. We were easy prey for those with territories and sources."

"Yes. It's not your fault. You trusted him, and he betrayed your trust." She took a deep breath. "I hope I never betray your trust."

The nigriff was silent a long time.

"I will go with you, Moriko. Across the water."

x.x.x.x.x

"Of course I'm going," Vleridin scoffed. "I just didn't want to seem too eager."

Moriko laughed. "Vleridin, I… I've learned so much from you. I'm so glad you came with me, even after…"

The mooskeg shifted, uneasy. "Moriko, I should… I should tell you, when I ensouled you that first time, I—I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to show you how it felt, to lay dying under cold stone"—every word a blow—"but I went to you and… well. I saw you better. I saw you better than I could ever have dreamed.

"I have learned so much from you, Moriko."

She nodded. "I deserved it. It was wrong—"

"It was all wrong! You didn't deserve it and neither did I. Let the chain be broken. We are partners."

"Thank you, Vleridin. Are you ready?"

"What are we waiting for?"

x.x.x.x.x

Rufus didn't come to her.

She went looking for him, and she found him looking wistfully at the paddock full of volcalf and burnox. Moriko sat beside him on the grass.

He was silent for a long time. "When I mega-evolved—" he rumbled, stopped suddenly. "I didn't like it, Moriko."

She felt the anguish, unsaid, radiating from him like heat, like a star.

"Rufus, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

He nodded. "It was too much. I didn't like it. Do you feel like that all the time?"

"Feel like what?"

"…Worried. Sad."

She looked up at him, his gaze distant. "Some of the time, I guess. I was worried then about Russell and about the demons. Could you feel what I was feeling because of the mega evolution?"

"Yes."

"Sorry. It took me by surprise. I didn't know what would happen, exactly."

"Okay."

A long silence. The wind rushed over the high hills in the distance.

"…Will you come with me, Rufus?"

The oxhaust exhaled a long stream of smoke. "They called me your starter," he said. "But I'm not your first pokémon. I'm not your favorite."

"I don't—Rufus, I don't play favorites."

"Vleridin is your favorite," he said, not sulky, just stating a fact. "She stole you from us." The fires at his heart burned quietly; the spirit flames on his shoulders wavered in the breeze.

She felt him slipping away.

"You're my friend, Rufus. You always will be."

"Good. You too."

She put her hand on his for a brief moment, and then let it fall.

"School is for smart people," Rufus said. "People who think a lot. After I mega-evolved I had to think a lot. I didn't like that."

"Where would you go instead?" she asked, remembering the little calf who'd come home with her one summer's day.

"I will stay with Prof. Willow. I heard about a place. A place for fire- and steel-types. We can get strong there. I will be there if you come back."

"I will! I will."

"Good. Goodbye, Moriko."

x.x.x.x.x

"You asked everyone, but not me," Tarahn said. "Was it a given?"

"Will you come with me, Tarahn, across the water, to Hoenn?"

"Yeah, duh."

"Thanks, kitty-cat."

"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried, bud."

x.x.x.x.x

Three out of five. It wasn't what she hoped, but it was better than she feared. And Rufus had left her reeling. She wanted to hurl the mega stone into the sea, but she still owed Belladonna two hundred thousand yen for it.

Linden Jr. found her in the hallway.

"Moriko, this was… _this was the best summer ever_. What are you doing next summer? Can I come with you? Come with me, we'll hit a league at S-tier and wreck faces!"

Moriko hugged Linden, who hugged her back excitedly.

"You. Are. Insane," she said fondly. "Your dad and Prof. Willow railroaded me into going to the ranger academy at Mossdeep. Do you live there?"

"Yeah, sometimes. Oh! This means we can train on weekends! Oh my god! Yes! And then we'll hit the league next summer, I did some Hoenn badges already but not that many. Moriko! This will be so sick!"

"It's a deal," Moriko said, and they high-fived only a little ironically. "…Linden, where is other demon? The nosfearat?"

Linden shrugged, trying to seem cool and detached. "I gave it back to Prof. Maple. I... don't think it's that good for them to be in the field right now."

Moriko blew out her breath. "I'm sorry, Linden. I know you wanted things to be better for them. I'm sorry about the paraslit."

"We'll see what happens. The nosfearat seemed more independent. I don't think I'd trust it outside the lab yet."

And yet she'd brought its pokéball with her into the wild. Moriko didn't comment.

"Have you taken this ship to Hoenn before? What can I expect?"

Linden waved a hand. "This one is okay, it's the one between Hoenn and Kanto that's way better. That one has a video game room and a pool and—"

x.x.x.x.x

"So, what's the verdict?" Matt asked later, after a late dinner of takeout Ethiopian food with a kid's cartoon on the dorm TV as background noise.

The leisure was bizarre; Moriko's mind returned endlessly to her next task, the next plan, and there was none.

"Tarahn, Vleridin, Liona, yes," she said, "Rufus and Thana, no."

"Wait—what? Your starter? Shit. I'm sorry, Moriko. Is he going to a trader?"

"No, he wants to stay with Prof. Willow. And train with a fire-type source, I guess? He said he'd wait for me to come back, but four years is a long time."

"Yeah. Well, you could visit next summer. He might change his mind."

"How about you?"

"Everyone's in. Even Tak, which I have to say I did not see coming. But I think he'll bail in the first two weeks and try to join with someone who looks tougher or a battle academy keener or whoever."

"Not getting out of that one so easily, huh?"

"I should have released him when he tried to peck my eyes on, like, second forty-one of our acquaintance. Terrible."

Moriko sighed. "I guess I'm doing this, huh? This is really happening?"

"Why not? What have you got to lose?"

"My pride, I guess, but when has fucking up colossally ever stopped me?"

"Speaking of—Moriko… I… want to apologize." He stood and bowed stiffly, formally. "You would never have been caught up in all this if not for me."

" _Matt_." She threw her arms around him and he sighed, sinking into it. "Listen: you were an ass. A giant ass. But we followed the exact same route Russ and I planned on, or near enough. What passed us by because there were three of us? That we never knew about? A lot would be different if we hadn't met, Matt. There are some things I wish I'd never seen. But there are things I'll never forget."

"Thank you, Moriko," Matt said, the relief obvious. "I'm so glad I met you. And Russ. I hope he comes around."

"Me too." It was a dreadful hope.

"I just hope I can get through that _person's_ opaque bullshit every month."

"Cooperate with her, you idiot," Moriko said. "Get well. I'll come see you and learn how to do whatever she does. I'll make her teach me. Okay?"

"You better."

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko boarded the boat, white and sleek with antigrav thrusters on the back that would levitate it over the water. It was slower than an aircraft, but cheaper, especially cross-region.

She had been patting her pockets compulsively all day, checking and re-checking, Angela's storage device refusing to give a tactile confirmation of all her worldly goods. She was looking forward to getting to wear clothes that she hadn't worn to a fine, tissue-paper-like consistency again. The promise of food that wasn't pokécenter cafeteria fare or ranger rations glimmered.

"Wait! Wait!"

Moriko turned on the deck. It was Thanasanian, flying in desperately behind another, faster, pokémon. Horsefly-green and yellow, it was the fulgurant who'd discovered them on their wild ride to try to save Russ, back in the desert.

"Thana? What happened?" Moriko called.

The fulgurant alighted on the deck railing and giggled. "Do not fear, young trainer! Keronnotorio has arrived to protect and aid thee!" It bowed with a flourish, wings buzzing.

Thanasanian followed, fluffy white moth's wings working hard, but she made it to the boat as well. "My sibling, Kera," she said, her tone a shade less polite than usual.

"Did you make it back to see your parent?" Moriko asked them.

"Yes, and she assigned me a new mission, to learn the rangers' secret techniques and to share them with the hive."

"And I as well!" Kera added.

Moriko wanted to ask why Thana had gotten over her fear of traveling so quickly. She looked between the oberant and the fulgurant, the latter casting her gaze about eagerly, while Thana stood with a look of fixed determination, and she thought that maybe she could guess.

"Queen Kalamatos dreams of roaming again, I think," Kera said. "She would take the whole hive journeying if she could!"

"Are you coming with me as well?" Moriko asked Kera.

"Alas, no, I have been instructed to locate Trainer Matthew. He is going to another land, and I will learn their techniques separately."

Moriko sent Matt a text, and directed Kera to the nearest pokémon center to meet with him.

"Farewell, fair Thanasanian! Brave Moriko! Until we meet again!"

"I'm glad she's going with Matt," Moriko said, after Kera had flown off into the city. "He needs more pokémon he can depend on."

"I also, although for a different reason," Thana said grumpily. She reached into her ruff and pulled out her own pokéball, passing it to Moriko, and hopped inside.

x.x.x.x.x

Moriko watched Gaiien get smaller and smaller, finally disappearing around the curve of the world, and she sighed. She was leaving behind Rufus and it killed her. She was leaving behind Russ and it killed her. It was a wound, and she couldn't do anything but tie her coat tight around the bleeding.

Linden Jr. saw her staring and changed the channel of her seat's tablet to an Almian tournament recap, loudly disagreeing with the announcer's assessment of the battle matchups and then crowing as she was proved right. Moriko glanced over her head at Prof. Linden, whose hands were limp on his keyboard as he dozed with his mouth open, and she quietly snapped a picture.

The sea sped by outside, thick cumulus clouds white and cheerful at the horizon and quickly left behind, and the sun glittering on the water.

She'd broken with Rufus, but she had four pokémon to care for. Tarahn, first friend, first to her defense; Liona, who longed to leave the shadow; Thana, shy but inquisitive; and Vleridin, who had charged into her life and changed everything.

Maybe Vleridin was her favorite. But you chose a favorite, and she would make sure none of them would want for attention and regard. And she thought of Prof. Willow, who had stood with her in place of a parent, and even Matt grown tolerable, and she thought that things might work out after all.


	30. Epilogue

Epilogue

 _Down in darkness we were reborn_

Moriko stood aside from the milling students and their parents and more than a few pokémon. There were orientation leaders with handmade type-glyph signs and raucous hats bellowing into megaphones and sounding off vuvuzelas, and one by one the student-ranger freshmen were joining them. She clutched at her own group assignment, thinking miserably of projects and other students judging her, starting into familiar teasing or withdrawing with customary suspicion.

 _Moriko! You came so far! How could there be any here who know you, here in this distant land? Remake yourself! Let me do the talking if you are so afraid._

 _Oh no. Oh no. That would be worse._

 _Please, I am a fount of wisdom and charisma. Do what I would do._

Moriko took a deep breath, and she strode over to the light-type orientation leader.

"Hi," she said, putting out her hand. "I'm Moriko Sato."

The leader shook her hand and scanned her pokédex, her face intent. Moriko's stomach knotted; this was a mistake, something had gone wrong, she hadn't been admitted after all, she was here fraudulently and everyone knew it—

She took a breath of the cool Hoennian air, and she smelled the sea and the mangroves and the plumeria trees dotting the campus. She reached into the green at her heart and felt the earth beneath her feet, and all the bright galaxy of life that she was part of.

 _I'm alive, so I keep going._

The leader grinned at her. "Welcome to Mossdeep, froshie! Are you excited?"

Moriko smiled. "Yes."

* * *

 _Give back your heart to itself,  
to the stranger who has loved you  
all your life_

 _-Derek Walcott_

* * *

 ** _Gods and Demons: ad terminos terrae_ will be followed by _So Comes Ice After Fire_ and by _Gods and Demons II: Among the Exiles_**

* * *

Acknowledgements

Sincere appreciation to everyone following this story and the old version and everyone who has reviewed, including Negrek, Gerbilfriend, Clarilune, Shadow Serenity, UnluckyAmulet, Moriko no Hikari, Wyldclaw, jumping off of rocky cliffs, Enraged Glyptodont, Estuaree, JC Jackals, seiht, Julie, Swifthound, the-dragon-whisperer, Farla, General Failure, charpal, Shenya, ViktorMayrin, Jdragon, KawaiiKitsuneCub, silverfrost9, Sumire-kun, Mythical Moonrabbit, Ieva, Yawgmoth, SunLight, Quizer, Laghail, Nagashi, Irken Gir, LoneGrowlithe, Necroblade, Akamuna, detective ban, Vicroc4, glitchinvr, JakeTS, BenJS, NyeLew, Distopia, and anyone I missed. It's been far too long and I thank you for sticking with me despite the rollercoaster and especially the long hiatus.

Thank you to everyone who PM'ed me during the hiatus to try to spark my interest— eventually, it worked.

Huge thank you to anyone who has recommended the story on other sites. It's hard to get an OC fic noticed these days, to say nothing of OC fic with no canon characters, and worse still, only a few canon pokemon, so I treasure your attention and regard.

I must again mention Negrek, who has followed this story for over a decade. Your in-depth reviews have been of the highest quality and your observations and suggestions hugely improved the story. Thank you VERY much, and thank you for the fanart!

Thank you again to reviewer Julie, who submitted the Hurocco fakemon line and who has also stuck with this story for an absurdly long time.

Huge thanks to Swifthound/Sheliloquy for the illustration of Maia that I've used as the cover art, SO KIND AAAAAA

Huge kudos to fanart submitters Myst Icedragon, Whiskerwing, and acidic-fire/ketolic! I AM NOT WORTHY. AT ALL.

Thank you to Empiric for the Mirronos line.

Thank you to Pinecone Tortoise for Paraslit.

Huge thanks to StellarWind for MANY hours spent chatting and comparing fakemon and written RP battles, and for a MEGA SICK drawing of Sylvia. NOT. WORTHY.

Shout-out to Gerbilfriend, who re-read and reviewed the redone chapters in Gods and Demons as well as the _ad terminos terrae_ version. Thank you!

* * *

Please follow my tumblr/deviantart **gaiienpokedex** for more fakemon— I will be filling out the Gaiien pokedex as well as adding regional formes for canon pokemon, and I'll get to some fakemon from nearby regions as well.


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